


Carry Me Home Tonight

by nineafternoons



Category: SEVENTEEN (Band)
Genre: M/M, Sex under the influence of drugs/alcohol, alcohol (in general), roommates!AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-15
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-05-14 03:17:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 73,829
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5727703
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nineafternoons/pseuds/nineafternoons
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Santa, is it really a Christmas miracle?</p><p> </p><p>Somewhere between hook-ups, post-it notes, red tapes and strip Uno, they find something more than what they bargained for. Hint: it's a four-letter word.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

It’s the most beautiful time of the year.

It comes with Mariah Carey’s Christmas songs on full blast, and different renditions of Last Christmas playing softly over the PA. For some reason, it’s not as distracting as Jihoon thought it would be—in fact, it kind of relaxes him, especially when it’s Frank Sinatra; he doesn’t really know about Cascada and Ariana Grande, though—but he could live.

And—like Santa Claus and his herd—Christmas also comes with an overly-sensitive and annoying Seungcheol. The modern, dictating Santa Claus, _but_ not quite; Seungcheol still sports dark hair, has a flat belly, and doesn’t ask people to sit on his lap to ask if they’ve been good this year. ‘Christmas is all about the spirit of gift-giving,’ Seungcheol strongly believes. ‘Christmas is not a holiday. It’s a feeling.’

But he’s indeed a _hoe, hoe, hoe_.

“You know what else is important besides _this_?” ironically says Seungcheol, the actual CEO of the company Jihoon works in. “Your homosexual agenda.”

Jihoon frowns and whisks the crumbled frostings of his late strawberry flavored donut away from his lap. “Don’t you have more important things to do? Like torment the kids in the Christmas Committee?”

“They’re doing fine, thank you.”

“What do you want, Seungcheol?” Jihoon sighs and closes the powerpoint presentation on his computer. “This better be important or else I’m going to punch you.”

“No need to get violent,” Seungcheol mumbles. “I’m here to help you, my best friend ever since I was a baby, with your homosexual agenda. Christmas is the season of gift-giving, so—”

“I hope this is not one of your stupid ideas—“

Seungcheol ignores him. “Jeonghan and I decided that you shouldn’t go to our annual Christmas party—”

“Wait, what?” 

Every Christmas and New Years, Seungcheol throws pretty—as what the young ones would say— _lit_ parties, avoiding (typical) adult party tropes such as playing scrabble, or an innocent game of truth or dare over fine wine and business politics. Surprisingly, Seungcheol’s fiancé, Jeonghan goes along with all of it—and so do a handful of his co-workers. It’s kind of a huge thing in the company; even puts Great Gatsby’s parties to shame, one would say.

Ever year, Seungcheol would bug him to attend his holiday parties, even going as far to coax him with fancy gifts. It’s a big deal for Seungcheol and effectively to Jeonghan too, so being the good friend and Best Man he is, he makes it a point to attend the parties, even if he’s not the best social butterfly out there.

So Seungcheol asking him to not attend the party is a huge surprise.

A Christmas miracle.

“No, no, no—hear me out, okay?” Seungcheol looks excited, like he’s a kid about to receive different flavored lollipops. Jihoon is confused. “It’s not like Jeonghan and I don’t want you to attend the party it’s just—” he drum rolls on the table, causing Jihoon to roll his eyes. “You’re going on a date!” his mouth hangs open in joy, creating breathy sounds of cheering.

“No thanks,” Jihoon chuckles dryly, popping his knuckles. “Not this time, Seungcheol,”

“But listen—you gotta attend this one. This is the last person I’m setting you up with, so this one is really a huge catch.”

“Why are you so intent on setting me up on dates?”

“Doesn’t life get lonely?” Seungcheol pouts mockingly, which left Jihoon glaring at him. In his long years of knowing Seungcheol, his facial muscles are always on a work out from frowning, mustering a disgusted face, and all varieties of expressions indicating how _done_ he is with him.

“I’m not lonely,” Jihoon says, and flinches how defensive he sounded. “I’m not lonely,” he repeats. “I have a roommate.”

Seungcheol bursts into laughter and says, “Yeah, a roommate you’ve never met. Seriously, Jihoon? I’m starting to think he’s a ghost.”

“He’s not a ghost. His side of the laundry room piles up, and he stocks the refrigerator every once in a while. I’m not lonely.”

“But you never met the guy.”

Jihoon pauses. “Fine, never.”

“So that doesn’t count. It’s like some Lake House shit going on. Who’s living in 2006? Who’s living in 2008?” Seungcheol insists, “Come on, Jihoon you have to go to this date,” he stands up and walks backwards, towards the door of his office, pointing a finger at Jihoon, “You gotta go, okay?”

Jihoon sighs in defeat. “Okay,”

“Coolballs,” Seungcheol grins, twisting the knob of the door. “I love ya, man.”

“Whatever,”

“Jeonghan is gonna be so happy when he hears this!”

“ _Just go!”_

Blind dates. Jihoon has been to many of those. It varies actually, a stark contrast of situations in which Jihoon mastered at some point in his life: dealing with greasy people in greasy diners and sitting with extremely stuck-up, self-praising assholes in fancy restaurants. Jihoon doesn’t really bother asking Seungcheol how he finds _them_ , because god knows he’s better off not knowing. He guesses sometimes though—like if he wears Armani, he’s a person of high rank in another company Seungcheol is affiliated with. If he wears something casual and smells like a million dollar bill, it’s a good lay. On rare occasions; after a nice date at the park or at some restaurant, he doesn’t go home. He wakes up to a different comfy sheet or sometimes to a bad-smelling motel room the next morning.

It’s getting tiring, really—having to keep up with calls from unknown numbers, asking him if he wants to meet up _again_ and be a potential fuck buddy. Jihoon refuses as always—it’s not his thing. He’s just a man living in his early 20s and has _needs_.

“For some reason, Seungcheol hyung assigned me as the leader for the ‘Christmas Committee.’” Chan, the youngest among them, shares with a huge pout. Jihoon really doesn’t have any empathy to offer, so he gently pats Chan’s back instead, hoping it’d be some kind of help to relieve his suffering from Seungcheol’s tormenting. It’s a rare sight for Jihoon to be out of his office during breaks, so when he decides to actually interact with his dongsaengs, he makes the most out of it.

And from his observations, lunch time comes with a lot of whining and existential crises.

It’s a tradition in the company. New recruits are required to join the Christmas Committee, the work being as promising as the name. The only time they can graduate from it is 2 years of service. It's some sort of passage; be Seungcheol Claus’ elf for 2 straight years, and you’ll earn bragging rights and better pay. The Christmas Committee graduates reminisce about their time in the making as if they’ve gone through war.

Mingyu and Hansol empathize with Chan, and Seungkwan—Christmas Committee graduate and marketing assistant head—laughs boisterously, but chokes on his bottle of water after. Mingyu mumbles something about how he deserved it, while Hansol hands him his perfume-bathed handkerchief, which Seungkwan appreciated with a slight blush on his face.

“Ah, yes, I remember my time in the Christmas Committee,” Seungkwan says after recovering. He clasps his hands together and says, “It was horrible, but fun. I was the leader, too.”

“You talk as if it was years ago,” Jihoon comments, taking a sip of iced tea. There it is. He sees the broken souls through Seungkwan’s eyes.

“So it seems,” Seungkwan replies dramatically, “Trust me, hyung, if you were in the Christmas Committee, you’d feel two times your age.”

“Wait, you weren’t in the Christmas Committee?” Mingyu asks, offended yet amazed at the same time. “ _How?”_

“Magic,” Jihoon says, shrugging. “I have a whole folder of blackmail material basically. Seungcheol saved his reputation by not including me in the Christmas Committee. Besides, I’m the CFO.”

“How to be you?” Chan groans.

“ _Anyway,_ while Jihoon hyung is practically hashtag blessed, let’s talk about something that will make us all feel happy: _the party,”_ says Seungkwan. “I’m bringing my friends from the radio station. What about you, hyung?”

“ _Me_?” Jihoon blinks. “I’m not going to the party.”

 “What?!” All four of them burst in unison.

“Seungcheol and Jeonghan set me up with a blind date—said that I should spend time with the guy.”

“That sucks,”

“Maybe,” Jihoon bites his lower lip. “I might ditch it, though.”

“Yeah, just say after 20 mins that it’s not going to work out. Hyung, you gotta go!”

After minutes of relentless begging and a refilled ego, Jihoon thinks he might just follow his initial plan and not attend the date. Really, Seungcheol acts like the typical dad in k-dramas—except he is his best friend. He just wants Jihoon to get it on with another CEO just in case he needs some type of concrete connection; almost like a merger—the bastard. When Jihoon confronted Seungcheol about it, the latter explained that it was just like hitting two birds with one stone. Jeonghan then profusely apologized and smacked Seungcheol at the back of his head in the process (Jihoon was then satisfied.) _Although_ , he appreciates how Seungcheol looks after his social life in some way; even does thorough background checks on his flings that miraculously last a week at most.

“ _Hoe, hoe, hoe!”_

Ah, speak of the devil.

“Really?” Jihoon frowns, throwing a used tissue at Seungcheol, who’s proudly wearing a bulging Santa hat.

“I’m laughing like Santa Claus,” Seungcheol says, and it puts Chan, Mingyu and Hansol to another case of nightmare. “Ah, what a nice mini meeting: my elves, my reindeer, and the Grinch who stole Christmas. Hoe, hoe, hoe.”

“How am I the reindeer?” Seungkwan asks with an incredulous look etched on his face.

“So _I’m_ the Grinch?”

“Anyway,” Seungcheol shrugs. “My elves need to stand up and get back to work—” he taps his thousand-something-dollars watch. “Go, go now! Those Christmas lights won’t hang themselves!”

Mingyu, Chan, Hansol and a following Seungkwan scramble up from their seats. When they left already, Seungcheol informs him, “Jihoonie, I got a call from Jeonghan earlier. He reserved a place for you two in Jungsik Dang,”

“That place is expensive. You really shouldn’t have?”

“Nah, Jeonghan wanted to anyway. Besides, anything for our Best Man.”

Great, just add a very expensive restaurant in the talks and it makes Jihoon guilty about his thoughts of ditching the date altogether. Seungcheol and Jeonghan knew about his weakness and morals, and he feels slightly vexed for exposing himself in such a way. Seungcheol smiles and walks backwards once again, snapping his fingers, yelling, “That’s my boy! Jihoon is going on a date!”

So much for ditching.

 

_‘tis the season to be jolly_

_fa la la la la la la la la_

 

Yeah, right.

 

 

It’s seven o’clock in the evening when he hears someone knocking on his office door. Wonwoo appears, all snuggled up with 3 layers of coats, bowing his head in greeting. It’s snowing hard in Seoul tonight.

“Jihoon?” Wonwoo greets. “I have to go now.”

Wonwoo leaving means he’s going to be the last person in the floor. It has been a routine of his ever since he worked as an understudy for Jihoon last year. He nicely makes it a point to tell Jihoon ‘goodnight’ or ask him to go home together, since their apartment complexes are just opposite each other. It’s a heart-warming gesture, really, so when Jihoon catches him and the finance intern Mingyu making out by the corner of the lounge, he gives them a free pass.

 “It’s okay, Wonwoo. Don’t you have a date tonight? Did Mingyu leave already?”

“Yeah, he left early. For some reason, he’s going to guest on this radio show Seungkwan gigs in. It’s nice.”

“Andromeda?” Jihoon nods. “That’s nice. I listen to them sometimes.”

“Yeah,” Wonwoo smiles and checks his watch. “Anyway, I really have to go now. Our cat is probably starving right now.”

“Yeah, okay,” Jihoon smiles. “Be safe on the way home!”

Wonwoo leaves and Jihoon is left alone. He stretches his arms and yawns, contemplating whether he should just spend the night in the office or go home and take a nice, warm bath. He’s too tired to even walk to the nearest station, and regrets not taking his car to work.

By the next hour or so, he decides the latter. There’s no one in the building except for the guards, the janitors, and maybe some co-workers who invest a big portion of their life to their job—just like him.

Jihoon is, what someone would call, a ‘workaholic,’ mainly driven by his family status and his will to prove to his parents and big brother that he can stand on his two feet alone and doesn’t need anyone to leech from. Well, in fact, Jihoon is kind of rich himself, but opts to work under Seungcheol’s company rather than his supposed inherited corporation in 5 years time. His resolution came when he was on his 10th shot at a college house party and when a guy whose name he doesn’t remember swept him off his feet and lent an ear to his problems. Seungcheol and Jeonghan were making out on the carpet when he told the guy, who sat with him by the far corner of the living room, a considerable distance away from the orgy that Seungcheol and Jeonghan were about to start, ‘ _‘M an ind’pndunt man who no need a fuck—_ hic— _leech on m’ p-rents bank account.’_

Or something like that.

He woke up the next morning then to an aching hip, Jeonghan cooking eggs, and an engagement announcement.

_“The ring will come a little bit late, though,” Seungcheol says, holding Jeonghan’s hand. He turns to his fiancé and asks, “Honey, do you think I should try investing?”_

And thus, the Choi Malls.

When Jihoon stepped into the adult world, he started from scratch. He learned how to properly invest from Seungcheol, effectively doing it by the sidelines up until now, substantially adding zeroes to his bank account. It was all going well until there was this company he was technically a part-owner of fell into a sudden recession—and before he knew it, his money got cut into half before he could pull his shares out (cue Seungcheol nagging him in the background), which led him into some troubles in paying his rent, since that particular area of investment earnings were solely dedicated to his living necessities.

The only solution he could come up with was to find a bed spacer that can pay rent along with him. His friend, Seokmin, found him one. The process wasn’t much of a hassle, really. He just woke up one morning to an extra set of plates, utensils and a whole new pile of laundry and everything was good.

It was supposed to be a temporary thing though, but eventually, having a person on the other side of his apartment became something he got used of. There’s a faded red tape to indicate their zones, and post-it notes all over the fridge as the only means of communication.

He shimmies off his shoes, and carefully places it on the rack, yawning. There’s an unfamiliar jacket by the couch, and he walks over to fold it neatly and place it by the counter of the kitchen. He might go home to an empty apartment, but at least, it looks lived in, like the trace of a breathing person touched the floors.

It comforts Jihoon to some extent.

There’s a new bright green post-it note on the fridge, and he notices it when he gets himself a box of milk.

_Hi, I saw that you’re running out of milk, so I brought you a whole dozen as a way of saying thank you for doing my laundry last week!!! (Thank god it was cheap lol.)_

Sometimes, there are days wherein he wants to meet his roommate face to face—but he thinks, in their circumstances, it’s impossible. It’s better off this way, he thinks. Someday, the guy is going to move out, and he is left only to be thankful of the ‘company.’ He throws the carton of milk to the nearest trash can and sleeps.

 

☾☾☾

 

“Do you think Teacher Kwon is dead?”

“I don’t know…I’m scared…”

 “Teacher Kwon is dead! Teacher Kwon is de—”

Soonyoung wakes up with little Mark cradling his head, crying for the police. The other children are screaming and jumping in crisis, _“What if we get accused of murder if we call the police?” “But Teacher Kwon is dead!”_

Soonyoung groans quietly, his cheek against the cold floor of the practice room. His eyes flutter open. Mark is crying on his face, incoherently mumbling about how his favorite dance teacher is dead, and how he doesn’t even know how to begin writing eulogies, since he’s only 6 and he doesn’t deserve to be pressured that way.

“Mark,” Soonyoung croaks.

“Teacher Kwon, don’t die please—”

“Mark,” Soonyoung tries again, smiling. “I’m alive.”

“Teacher Kwon?”

“Your tears brought me back to life!” Soonyoung exclaims happily as he picks himself from his sleeping unconsciousness. “I really thought I was gonna die for real—” he stands up and clears his throat. “Don’t be sad now, okay?”

“ _Teacher Kwon is a zombie!”_

Soonyoung stretches his arms, his ear touching his shoulder. The kids huddle together by the corner of the practice room, shaking in their boots, screaming. Soonyoung raggedly walks towards them and says in a croaky impersonation of a zombie voice, “ _Rawr_! I’m a zombie!”

“Rawr?” A voice interrupts.

Soonyoung pauses, “Yeah— _rawr_ ,”

“That’s like a dinosaur,” Junhui says, shaking his head. “It’s more like _UWA!”_

Soonyoung and Junhui play with the kids for a solid 10 minutes until Minghao entered the practice room with a puzzled expression on his face. Minghao takes off his motor helmet and asks, “Are we doing Thriller today?”

“No,” Soonyoung says, laughing. Little Jinyoung is straddling him on the floor, punching him weakly on the chest. “We were playing.”

Junhui carries Jinyoung off of Soonyoung. “Anyway, we should start warming-up now.”

Minghao gathers the kids in the center and leads the warm-up, gently instructing the kids to rotate their heads clockwise with his pure cinnamon roll of a voice. Junhui nudges Soonyoung, who’s fixing the sound system, by the elbow and asks, “I’m assuming you spent the night here?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sighs, flipping through the CD books. “I practiced all night. Didn’t know underground can be a bit demanding—but I can live.”

“Many professional teams are interested in you, though. Why not join them?” Junhui suggests as he watches Minghao instructing the kids to do a split. “Better pay, right?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung bites his lip. “But I don’t really want to travel overseas. Besides, I’m fine here in Korea—compared to my time in Japan, that is.”

Soonyoung is on his first job for the day; later, by the afternoon, he’d teach little kids taekwondo, and at night, he’d DJ for Seungkwan and Seokmin’s radio show and to top it off, he’s participating in underground dancing competitions. As tiring as it sounds, Soonyoung handles all of his jobs smoothly—it’s a craft he honed, he supposes: dancing, martial arts and talking. The top 3 things he’s good at. So, he enjoys all of it to avoid negative feelings such as stress and eternal damnation. He’s young and as much as possible, wrinkles are something he should be scared of.

Junhui, being the good friend he is, talked to him about _this_ situation at one point, even offered some financial help—which Soonyoung absolutely refused; Junhui and Minghao are helping him enough: giving him a job, letting him use one of the rehearsal rooms to his personal content, and even welcoming him to sleep in their shared apartment after a very tiring day. Sure, he has a home—but his legs and arms would be so worn out after hours of intensive practicing that he couldn’t even bring himself to hail a cab by the street, much less getting water for himself by the vending machine fronting the entrance of the practice room.

In a much simpler explanation, Soonyoung is a hard-worker who needs a lot of cash. Actually, before his constant 3 jobs, he had more—he got various strip club offers straight out of college, filled a piggy bank with a part-time job at a hardware store by the Red Light District, and the most stable and non-shady of them all—babysitting for rich-ass parents. His odd jobs raised a huge concern to his friends though, and somehow the news reached to his over-protective cousin. Soonyoung then rethinks his life choices.

_“It’s a small town,” Seokmin, his best friend and weed-buddy ever since college, shrugs as he ostentatiously reads a furniture catalog. “Or maybe your cousin was really hot that I had to oblige and say everything about you.”_

So to say, his  cousin had been keeping tabs on him the moment he found out he almost turned homeless, almost became a stripper, and single without a pringle and a penny. (If it hadn’t been for Seokmin’s outmost generosity, he would’ve lived by the streets now.) (It earned Seokmin some extra points to his cousin; later Seokmin finds out that his cousin is engaged.) (He is heartbroken.)

_“You sad, sad thing,” Seokmin greets, ‘barging’ into his own apartment, quickly stealing the remote from Soonyoung. Seokmin pauses where Obi-wan Kenobi dies. Soonyoung is baffled. “I have good news.”_

_“Obi-wan Kenobi just died,” Soonyoung says, staring at the still screen, a bowl of popcorn in hand. “How is that good news?”_

_“You’ve watched that for how many times now?” Seokmin asks, frowning. “Wait—how do you watch it?”_

_“The Machete order,” Soonyoung blinks at him. “Dude,”_

_“I’m more of a Star Trek person anyway,” Seokmin shrugs. “It was hard keeping my mouth shut when we watched Episode VII.”_

_“Yeah, that’s why you almost got beaten up the moment you stepped outside the cinema,” Soonyoung says, and fondly looks back at the memory of Seokmin ranting about Han Solo’s—he doesn’t even want to say it. Soonyoung remembers taking considerable steps away from Seokmin that moment, since the latter spoiled the movie a little too loud—which inevitably turned him into a breathing prey of the people waiting in line for the movie._ “RIP Lee Seokmin. Sorry, you’re on your own, pal.”

_Seokmin had to hide in Etude House._

_“Anyways, where was I? Oh yea, I have some real’ good news.”_

_Soonyoung stops and rolls his eyes. “What is it?”_

_“I found a solution to your problem,”_

_“A solution to my problem,” Soonyoung repeats._

_“Yeah,” Seokmin nods, clapping his hands together, smiling. “Dude, I found a place for you to live!”_

_Soonyoung frowns. “I’m already living with you?”_

_“Temporarily, of course,” Seokmin waves off, which left Soonyoung sort of offended; so much for a best friend, really. Whatever happened to the Seokmin he played beer pong with at almost every frat party? He doesn’t know. How the times have changed. “This one is kind of permanent—to say at least.”_

_“How much?”_

_“I don’t know—” Seokmin says. “But what I do know is that you’re just going to pay half of the rent.”_

_“The rent only? And half?” Soonyoung perks up. Miracles do exist._

_“Okay, so this…good friend of mine—”_

_Soonyoung eyes him._

_“Okay, my ex-boyfriend who I’m still good friends with—” Seokmin rolls his eyes, “has been facing some financial problems lately, so he needs a bed spacer to lessen his bills.”_

_“Ex-boyfriend?” Soonyoung frowns. “You want me to be roomies with your ex-boyfriend?”_

_“My first boyfriend to be exact; we dated during high school. It was a mutual break up. We decided we were better off as friends. He’s a prodigy, that one—really smart and really cute. It was nice catching up with him.”_

_“Wait, I’m not breaking any bro code or something, right?”_

_“What? You plan on boning him?”_

_“No!”_

_“Then we’re good,” Seokmin nods and flicks his forehead. “It’s not like I’m still in love with him—_ god, no _. He’s a good friend,” he pauses. “He’s a really busy man. And you are, too, so I don’t think you two will have time to meet?”_

_“Whatever. As long as I have a place to stay in, then I’m fine.”_

It was more than fine, actually—a jackpot perhaps. When Soonyoung moved into the apartment, a red tape greeted him, indicating the boundary his roommate—Seokmin’s ex-boyfriend—had set for them. It was weird and disturbing at first, living with someone he had never met. But at the same time he doesn’t bother delving into the situation personally. He’s got three jobs taking over his everyday life—and in fact, living with a ghost-like presence is enough company for him and his lonely, lonely life.

It comes with post-its and his generous heart to fill the fridge.

“ _Man,_ ” Byulyi tsks, staring at her phone. They’re walking by the busy streets of a snowing Seoul, going through the aftermath of a lunch time rush. She’s headed to her apartment complex, while he ought to catch the nearest train to Seungkwan and Seokmin’s radio station. Soonyoung met her during a frat party—Byulyi on her nth shot of vodka, talking about how climate change is _not_ a fucking scam. They got close due to their similar interests in dance, martial arts, _and_ —he’s not sure about girls, though.

“What happened?” Soonyoung asks with his mouth full of double bacon cheese burger—a simple but fulfilling meal Byulyi bought him for working hard in the taekwondo gym today. 

“Girlfriend,” she mumbles. “Remember the head cheerleader in my batch?”

“Yongsun noona?” Soonyoung bursts. “But you told me she wasn’t your type?”

“Apparently she is,” Byulyi bites her lip, “after an extensive evaluation.”

“You spent a whole party hating her, though.”

“And you spent that whole party listening to me,” Byulyi ruffles his hair and grins. “That’s why you’re my favorite dongsaeng!”

“Anyway,” Soonyoung rolls his eyes, fixing his hair. “What are you worrying about?”

Byulyi sighs and fixes her snapback. “I told her I was with a guy just to spite her and to get a reaction—because lately she has been so, I don’t know…cold?”

“So, I’m that ‘guy,’”

“Yeah you’re that ‘guy.’ I thought it’d be fun to tease her, but _ha!_ It backfired. Now, I’m horrible. I don’t even know what I did for her to give me the cold shoulder in the first place.”

“But we’re friends. She shouldn’t be mad.”

“Yeah, I even told her you were gay!” Byulyi pouts. “But she’s not buying it. I’m tempted to send her your _exhibitions_ during college, so she’d believe you’re not really in it for pussies.”

Ah, yes, college. A very dark, yet very wild time—where he’s free with his body and where a cup of instant ramen is a feast. It comes with an influx of sweatbands and a lot of tears, too—from laughs, from missing your parents and because of professors. Soonyoung shudders.

“ _Exhibition_ ,” Soonyoung corrects, remembering the time he blatantly rimmed a cute guy on his old frat house’s couch. He’s surprised of the memory, though—he might’ve been shit drunk and high that time, but the universe loved him too much that they allowed him to remember a very _defining_ moment. “It was a one-time thing. Other than that, everything else is behind locked doors.”

“ _Sure_ ,” Byulyi says and stops in front of her apartment complex. “Anyway, this is me. Stay safe on the way to the radio station. Say ‘hi’ to Seokmin and Seungkwan for me.”

“Okay, I hope you’ll survive Yongsun noona’s wrath,”

“I hope you get yourself a nice booty this Christmas!” Byulyi yells by the entrance of the complex. “Have fun on your blind date next week!”

“ _Noona_ ,” Soonyoung groans. “I don’t plan on going.”

“Whatever you say, boy,” Byulyi waves him goodbye, “Whatever you say.”

 

Christmas comes with blind dates offerings and encouragement from his cousin, who’s a self-proclaimed walking, breathing Tinder.

It’s some sort of tradition his cousin wants to keep in the family; his dad met his biological mom through a blind date and his cousin _properly_ met his fiancé the same (the first time they interacted was through an orgy, though, but that’s an entirely different story.)

“ _My baby Soonyoung_ ,” his cousin coos—speaking of the devil—over the phone. He calls him after his short train ride. Soonyoung is currently enduring walking on snow with his antiquated boots, ripped and in need of master glue from everyday use. _“Where are you?”_

“Heading to Seokmin and Seungkwan’s radio station, why?”

_“Okay, anyway, I have some great news for you!”_

“You’re cancelling my blind date?”

“ _Soonyoungie, don’t be like that!_ ”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” Soonyoung sighs. “What is it?”

 _“I reserved a place for you two in Jungsik Dang,”_ he hears his cousin breathily yelling over the line, “ _isn’t that amazing?_ ”

“Jungsik Dang?” Soonyoung bites his lip. “But that’s really expensive.”

“ _Yeah and that’s exactly why you should attend the date!_ ”

Soonyoung enters the station, and grips the phone hard when he gets inside the elevator. “But _hyung_ ,”

“Soonyoung _, this is the last one. I swear. If you don’t like him, leave him_.”

“Okay fine.”

“ _Fine?_ ”

“Yes, fine. But don’t hold it against me when I leave in the middle of the date. The last person you set me up with, apparently, already went to jail due to fraud.”

 _“Okay,_ that _, I didn’t know. He seemed like a nice guy, okay! I just wanted the best for my Soonyoungie.”_

“Okay, hyung,” Soonyoung chuckles. “Thanks. I have to go now.”

His cousin sweetly bids him goodbye and promises him the best romantic night of his life with the guy he set him up with. Soonyoung sighs and pockets his phone, opening the door to the main studio, where Seungkwan and Seokmin are in a very promising position. Seungkwan is practically sprawled on Seokmin’s lap, struggling to get hold on the computer mouse the latter is holding. 

 “And while we wait for your texts and calls for our Talk-Advice-Talk portion, we are going to play—” Seokmin fiddles through the playlist, attempting to keep his voice intact as he tries to writhe out of Seungkwan’s grip. “Santa—”

“—Tell Me by Ariana Grande!” Seungkwan half-yells after he finally succeeds in stealing the mouse from Seokmin, clicking on the said song quickly. “A great Christmas bop, really. Enjoy!”

“What was that?” Seokmin takes off his headphones, offended. “I was supposed to play Santa Claus Is Coming to Town! An anthem!”

“God, no, please,” Seungkwan groans as Ariana Grande’s voice filled the corners of the station. “Our boss has been playing that song non-stop. I think my ears are going to bleed.”

“Hey,” Soonyoung greets, taking off his coat and hanging it on the rack. “What did I miss?”

“Seungkwan just put the whole nation down by playing Santa Tell Me,” Seokmin glares at Seungkwan, “a disappointment.”

“What do you want to play? Dear Santa by TTS?”

“In fact, yes!”

Soonyoung shakes his head and sits between Seokmin and Seungkwan, who are still spitting every Christmas song out there, comparing which is more of a bop and which is more of a flop, banging the table with their hands for more emphasis. An entertaining debate, really—Soonyoung _would_ laugh but he witnesses this scene on almost a daily basis, he just sighs and tunes their screams out. Eventually, Santa Tell Me is almost coming to an end, and Soonyoung takes responsibility for being the neutral party and chooses the next song to shut both of his friends up— _Under the Mistletoe._

“Really?” Seungkwan and Seokmin yell.

“At least you two agreed on the same thing,” Soonyoung mumbles, flipping through his script. “Plus, it’s a cute song, shut up.”

“Anyway,” Seungkwan starts, changing the topic, as if he wasn’t cutting Seokmin’s head off awhile ago, “As we all know, Christmas comes with _the party_. You two are going, right? It’s going to be so _lit._ ”

“Of course!” Seokmin excitedly nods. “Seungcheol hyung’s parties are the best. Some Great Gatsby shit right there—and Jeonghan hyung’s there, too, so.”

Soonyoung rolls his script and hits Seokmin’s head. “Leave my cousin alone. He’s literally engaged to the host.”

“I know, I know. Why? Can’t I just appreciate the aesthetic?”

“Whatever, Seok, whatever,” Soonyoung scrolls through the station’s cell, numerous texts concerning about how they’re alone for the upcoming holidays.

_Dear DJ Boo, DJ DK, DJ Hoshi,_

_I am very lonely for the holidays._

_How do I survive?_

He doesn’t know. That was his initial thought. He’s generally lonely too. But he gathers himself and thinks of the most useful yet general advice he could come up with: _call up your friends and greet them a sweet ‘happy holidays.’ Attend get-togethers, and you never know—you might find your Christmas miracle out there._  

“Hey, Soonyoung,” Seungkwan snaps his fingers. “You haven’t answered my question. Are you going to your cousin’s fiancé’s party?”

Soonyoung puts his headphones on and pauses. “Yeah,” he nods, after much consideration, biting his lower lip. “Yeah, I’m going.”

 

 

❆❆❆

 

 

The most awaited holiday is here—Christmas Eve rather.

It strikes him when his alarm doesn’t ring and when he wakes up a little bit after one o’clock in the afternoon. He panics from the thought of missing work at first, but then his calendar greeted him, telling him it’s already the 24th of December.

He stands up from his bed and cautiously opens the door of his room. It’s his first holiday living in this apartment and he’s sure that there’s a half fat chance his roommate is somewhere in the vicinity. It’s not like he’s giddy or anything; curiosity bites him like a snake. For the past years he had Seokmin as his friend, the latter never really talked about having a high school sweetheart—not even hinting about it at least once. So it comes as a surprise for him.

It piques his interest to some extent perhaps (without malice of course)—especially as it served as his first legitimate thought for a promising day.

Actually, it’s his first thought every morning.

He always wonders if his roommate is on the other side of the door when he wakes up at 8 in the morning— _every single day_. It’s a suspense he ponders about, lives about, and gets disappointed about. It’s the breakfast meals his roommate leaves for him every morning that fuels him.

But the apartment is strikingly empty when he steps out of his room.

He sighs and walks over to the dining table, where a delicious stack of pancakes and a note resided.

_Happy holidays! I won’t be around the whole day and for tomorrow because I’m currently doing last minute Christmas shopping and I have to attend another errand the following day—so I made these pancakes for you as compensation._

_Although!!!!!!!!_

Soonyoung finds himself smiling at the excessive use of exclamation points.

_I already bought a present for you ^^ Isn’t that cool??? It’s on the coffee table. I’m sorry if you won’t like it, since I really don’t know your preferences and such—but I hope you’ll appreciate it._

_Once again, happy holidays!_

He spends the day lazing around, shifting through different channels on the TV, a desperate practice for finding entertainment.

But really, he’s just killing time as he low-key waits for his roommate to come home.

He hasn’t opened the gift his roommate gave him, because he feels like he’s going to scream overwhelmingly and lose his chill when he does. Unfortunately, his roommate doesn't come home (he tries to hide his sadness, even to himself) and evening finally comes. He sighs as his cousin reminded him to get ready for his date, guilt-tripping him in the process.

 _Your date’s willing to spend Christmas Eve with a stranger, so I think you should be a little grateful_.

But it doesn’t faze him that much. He’s in a relatively good mood.

His initial plan was to ditch the date, but he finds himself taking the bus to Jungsik Dang in the next minutes or so, the mystery of his roommate's present stuck in the back of his mind, enough to keep him warm and cheery. Something in his gut (and the way his cousin explained how his date worked hard to get ready for him) tells him to _not_ ditch _—_ even if Seokmin and Seungkwan were already nagging him through texts and missed calls, asking him where the fuck he was, informing him that the party had already started. Maybe his pending resolution of being the less of a d-bag he already was also helped in making the decision.

 _But_ he has a plan; he will sit in a few minutes, pretend an emergency happened, and then leave. So technically, he still attended and gave a few portion of his time socializing and getting to know his date. No one can blame him.

The area around the restaurant is packed; families bonding all around and couples walking hand-in-hand. It’s snowing harder than usual, enough to give the feeling of a simple white Christmas Eve. He sighs and fixes his thick beanie.

He waits in line by the receptionist’s table, the moment he entered the restaurant. He shoves his hands inside his pockets and hums to a Christmas song he forgot the title of. _And,_ like a soft blow to an unrelenting scorching fire, something hits him when he hears a familiar voice calling out to him the next second.

“ _Soonyoung? Is that you?”_


	2. Chapter 2

The thing about Christmas parties is that it’s full of alcohol and a weirdly dressed Santa Claus.

It’s an unspoken tradition, he thinks. Every year, someone would pull off this kind of cosplay, and to some extent—it boosts the theme of the atmosphere. A set of sprinkles to top complement the ‘games,’ the liquor and the interns making out in the middle of the dance floor.

Perfect.

“My parties,” Jihoon remembers Seungcheol saying one time, as if he’s presenting a feasibility study to investors, “for the lonely, the sad and the happy. Something good comes out of it sometimes.”

Seungcheol can get pretty philosophical when it comes to these things.

_“You know, Jihoon,” Seungcheol starts. It’s an after-finals party where everyone’s eyebrows just recovered from horrible burns. Jihoon could practically see how everyone leaves their soul on the dance floor; of numbers, formulas, essays, and a whole lot of tears from multiple choices and identification parts._

_“I’m thankful for_ this,” _Seungcheol says seriously. It’s one of those nights where he doesn’t drink that much—or when his alcohol tolerance hikes up a level. “At first, parties were just a getaway for me. I only thought of its purpose as that,” he sighs and swigs the bottle of beer in his hand. “But then I met Jeonghan. Man, I never thought_ this _could bring me to the love of my life. Call me weird, but I think I want to marry him.”_

_“At this early stage of your relationship?”_

_Seungcheol nods, “Yeah.”_

_Jihoon never thought of him as weird for thinking like that—having that kind of belief. If anything, he’s proud and happy of his best friend for having someone to love in his lifetime._

_He wonders if, when the time comes, he would be able to experience that kind of love. And it’s cheesy, thinking of it. Could be shamed, even. But every once in a while, he imagines what it’s like to be loved and to love._

There are two prominent devices in remembering a memory: the setting and the person.

It’s the annually updated EDM playlist blasting through the speakers and the bottle of beer in his hand. Not to mention, the director of the Busan branch is eyeing him weirdly. Jihoon shifts his gaze to his drink.

(The said director once did a strip tease on Seungcheol's mahogany table, chugging down on a pitcher full of beer. Seungcheol, the gentleman he is, covers his eyes and says, ‘Jeonghan can do better.’ ‘What the fuck, Seungcheol.’)

He’s at the most awaited Christmas party of the year and he just stained his favorite sweatshirt with ketchup.

As anticlimactic as it sounds (and as it is)—he attends the party and inevitably hides from Seungcheol and Jeonghan in their very own humble abode. To put more detail, he almost took the bus to Jungsik Dang, but ended up going to the Choi residences instead with small guilt in the back of his mind. It was a last minute decision, really—an impulsive yet satisfactory choice. He might’ve tugged a few negative feelings out there, but at least he did it anonymously— _that is_ , if the guy cared. For all he knows, he might’ve been a douchebag. A part of him still doubts Seungcheol’s choice of blind date candidates.

“ _Jihoon!_ ”

He whips his head and grins when a familiar face greeted him. “Seokmin,” he smiles. “Nice seeing you here.”

“Yeah, yeah— _wait_ , can you move?”

“What? Why?”

“We’re almost by the mistletoe,” Seokmin points up, dragging him by the waist. “It’d be a little awkward if I kiss the living daylights out of you in the middle of this party.”

“Always the gentleman,” Jihoon pulls away and playfully hits his chest. “And it’s not like you really needed mistletoes to kiss me.”

Seokmin gasps. “Are you flirting with me?”

“No, I’m just stating facts,” Jihoon laughs and pauses before saying, “I suppose Seungkwan invited you?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin replies—his voice a tad bit louder since All I Want for Christmas Is You (Extra Festive) turns up a notch. “You know, _as always_. Every year. How come _you_ never invite me?” 

“Because Seungkwan does it for me?”

“Good point,” Seokmin chuckles. He then snaps his fingers and bites his lip—a habit he does whenever he remembers something in the middle of an occurring conversation. Jihoon learned all about it on their 4th date as lovers back in high school—when it was relatively quiet in the rubbish fast-food chain restaurant they unfortunately frequent to. Seokmin talking with his mouth full of fries, and then bursting after he realized he forgot his History textbook in school. “Speaking of Seungkwan, I’m supposed to be with another minion today. I think he ditched us.”

“Who is the minion this time?”

“Not exactly minion. He’s my best friend— _wait_ — _oh my god,_ ” Seokmin squints his eyes and cranes his next one o’clock. Jihoon follows his gaze and frowns.

A nudist.

That’s what he sees— _at least_ , that’s what he assumes. Jihoon turns to Seokmin and asks, “Do you know that guy?”

“I know a lot of guys around here, but I take it you’re referring to the one who’s currently stripping his pants off?”

Jihoon nods.

“Unfortunately, _yes_. In fact, he’s the guy I was just looking for— _goddamit_ ,” Seokmin shifts his gaze to the pant-less guy and yells, “ _You fucking suck at strip uno!_ ”

“Whatever!” the guy shouts back, taking off his tie. There’s a deck (he’s pretty sure it’s not the official one, though) in his right hand and a bottle of soju in his left. Jihoon chokes, unable to tear his eyes away from the guy’s outlined crotch.

The boxers were tight.

And it’s familiar.

Seokmin faces him, “Are you—”

“ _No,”_ he quickly denies.

“You are,” Seokmin says flatly. “ _Really?_ ”

Jihoon doesn’t answer back and shifts his gaze to the game.

 “Reverse! It’s a reverse card!”

 _“Strip! Strip! Strip!”_ chants everyone excitedly, whistling and clapping. It’s déjà vu, perhaps—except it’s more outlandish and entertaining than the strip tease the Busan director did last year. If anything, _this_ takes the cake. The guy licks his lips and carefully stands on the couch, his thighs out on full glory. Jihoon clears his throat and bites his lower lip to stifle a sigh.

He loses a bit of himself when the guy locks his gaze on him.

It’s a challenge—keeping still and not acting upon his desire right then and there. Jihoon grips the ends of his sweatshirt and gulps.

The guy comes down from the couch and while he did, he threw him a wink. Seokmin frowns beside him and says, “Don’t mind him. He’s usually like that when he’s drunk.”

“Sure,” Jihoon nods mindlessly, clearly enjoying it.

Sadly, momentums don’t last long.

Jihoon yelps as soon as he sees Seungcheol and Jeonghan come out of their own room, holding hands.

Jihoon bites his lip and turns to Seokmin, “I have to go…somewhere,”

“What? Why?”

“I’m hiding from someone,” Jihoon says hurriedly. He taps Seokmin’s shoulder as a sign of ‘goodbye’ before running off to the kitchen, where it’s relatively quiet and uncrowded, a considerable distance away from the event. He sits dumbly on the floor, right behind the island and wishes Seungcheol and Jeonghan wouldn’t bother going for a snack or something.

He hides there for minutes or so, thinking of ways on how he can escape. Well, he brought this damnation upon his self. The least he could do right now was compromise and lie, just in case he bumps into the engaged couple. Okay, maybe, going to Seungcheol’s party wasn’t the best idea he ever had; he weighs all the pros and cons to at least relieve himself from all the decisions he made for the night. _And_ , as Hannah Montana said, ‘everybody makes mistakes, everybody has those days.’

He makes a resolution sometime around 10 minutes before midnight, where everyone started to gather in the living room to yell “Happy Holidays” at each other, dancing with a non-remixed Christmas EDM song. The thing is, Christmas day proper is where the actual fun starts. And usually, Jihoon leaves during those climax hours. The last time he didn’t, he spent 7 minutes in heaven with a woman he didn’t like.

He stands up quietly and leaves the kitchen, slightly tipping his toes on the carpeted floor—all the way to the main door. The people are laughing boisterously over the loud music while some howl by the pool, declaring a skinny dip parade, mixing expensive champagne with chlorine and swimming on it. It’s a fat chance he would go home unnoticed. Hopefully.

He spends Christmas with his hands in his pockets and feet on grass. He walks briskly under the streetlights and finds himself out of the vicinity in no time. A part of him feels bad for not properly greeting his friends a happy holiday. But he could do that in the morning, probably after thinking of the stripping guy, the date he ditched, and excuses to say to Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

 

☾☾☾

 

It’s more of like wearing braces for years, and then getting it off. The retainers follow for a short while, and if you don’t wear it that much, there’s a huge chance your teeth might crook again.

It might be a weird metaphor, but it’s the most accurate one Soonyoung could come up of. It’s like you knew what you had to do, but in the end, you still fucked up so badly.

Soonyoung doubts his alcohol tolerance sometimes.

He’s lying down on the carpet floor of his cousin’s house, buttons hooked on the wrong places and his fly open. He now believes in such a thing called ‘Christmas miracles’ because somehow, he’s still fully dressed. He sees Seungcheol by the patio then, gathering the left-over confetti strewn around. He sits up yawning, slouching and blinking.

“Hyung,” he croaks. Magically or maybe from natural instinct, Jeonghan hears him and turns off the vacuum.

“Oh, you’re awake! I made you breakfast. You should go eat.”

He was about to ask why he didn’t bother dragging him to the couch or any comfortable place to sleep, but then he remembers there are much more important matters to attend to. “What happened last night?”

“Hm,” Jeonghan scratches his chin, tapping his foot. “besides you going on a date?”

Soonyoung lets out a sigh of relief.

“And stripping in front of everyone?”

“ _Oh my god,_ ” Soonyoung groans, curling up into a ball. There it is, the confirming fear. So that’s the reason why he felt empty the moment he woke up—his dignity left his body. “For real?” he asks hopefully.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan nods and gestures him to stand up. “But let’s not talk about that. You can’t do anything about it anymore.”

“Thanks for making me feel better,” mumbles Soonyoung sarcastically. “Happy holidays.”

“Happy holidays, too,” Jeonghan grins. He walks to the dining room, Soonyoung following after. “And you have a lot to tell me.”

“Like what?” Soonyoung asks, taking a seat, grabbing the utensils set in the middle of the table.

Jeonghan stares at him. “Like your date?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung sweats, doing everything in his power to _not_ panic as he thinks of a very convincing excuse. Nothing passes his cousin’s detective skills, but it wouldn’t hurt to lie—or at least simmer down an upcoming shit storm.

“It was okay,” Soonyoung shrugs, spreading the peanut butter on the bread. “He was an okay guy, though I left early.”

“Why did you leave early? Come on, Soonyoung! He was perfect!”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods, sipping his orange juice, and then wiping his mouth with his sleeves as if there aren’t any tissues beside him. “He’s okay. But you know, I kinda felt like both of us wanted the date to end early, so you know, we just…parted ways.”

Jeonghan sighs and leans back. “You’re hopeless.”

“What did you expect?” Seungcheol pops in. He places his hands on Jeonghan’s shoulders and gives him a chaste kiss.

“Don’t be mean to my cousin!”

“I’m not being mean to your cousin,” Seungcheol says, but Soonyoung thinks otherwise. “And why are you suddenly attacking me? I was literally on your side by agreeing that—” he points a strawberry jam filled bread knife at Soonyoung, “he’s hopeless.”

“Okay, fine, I get it. I get what you two are saying,” Soonyoung insists. “It just didn’t work out, okay?”

Seungcheol glares at him. “No Rochers for this month.”

“That’s like, my favorite chocolate ever. You can’t deprive me of this one,” Soonyoung turns to Jeonghan, “hyung, you know Rochers are my favorite.”

“I know, but I’m with him. Sorry.”

“So you two are punishing me for not liking the date you set me up with?”

Jeonghan and Seungcheol pause—and then, in synch, “Yeah.”

“Alright,” Soonyoung presses his lips together. “Okay, fine I get it.”

“Soonyoung, did you even go to the date?” Soonyoung sputters, roughly coughing from the orange juice he choked from. After a few fits, he says, “Of course, I did!”

Soonyoung continues, “I went to the date and met up with the guy. It was nice. We ordered wine, talked about Christmas and that’s it.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol says. He looks convinced. Soonyoung is glad.

After a solid hour of explaining, scrutinizing and cleaning the house, Soonyoung politely takes his leave and wishes the couple a happy holiday.

 

(Somewhere in the background, Seungcheol mumbles, ‘He’s lying.’

‘I know, babe. I know.’)

 

 

 

☾ ☼ ☾

 

 

 

6 days can do so much for the holidays, meaning, Christmas and New Years are two entirely different things, of two heavenly bodies with different lifeforms and ecosystems.

New Years is, what you can say, the time when metamorphoses occur; a prim and properly dressed caterpillar on a Christmas dinner, blooming into a beautiful butterfly when midnight kisses and resolutions are a thing. For a more empathetic situation, it’s where suppressed Christmas feelings are channeled out. Yes, it’s about time to stop overplaying Mariah Carey’s songs! Yes, no more Christmas Committee! Yes, people can now finally get laid without the thought of Saint Nick slipping a gift under their Christmas tree!

To put it simply, New Years is like fine wine on its best date.

 “Enjoying?” 

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods. He’s not going to drink anything heavier than Michelada tonight. He wipes his lips and says, “More faces I know. Did you invite your whole frat house?”

“Yup,” Seungcheol says proudly, ex-president and alumni of Alpha Sig, “why not?”

“Yeah, why not,” Jihoon mumbles, taking another sip. He wasn’t exactly pledged to Alpha Sig, but he was familiar enough with most of their members. He has fond memories of them, really, thanks to Seungcheol and Jeonghan who, then, dragged him around by the wrists to introduce him to new people and shoved drinks to his chest.

Seungcheol squints and takes Jihoon’s cup, bringing the rim to his nose, smelling his drink, “Michelada?”

“Yeah,”

“You can do better than that,” he then yells a short ‘hey!’ to the stand-in bartender and asks for a Jaegerbomb shot.

“Okay, now that I saved your life, I must go and attend to my guests—while you, my friend, knock yourself out with a great drink, and your perpetual boringness.”

“Happy New Year,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. “I’m a fun person.”

“Whatever makes you sleep at night,” Seungcheol laughs and then disappears in the crowd.

Jihoon turns to the bar again, swiping away the remnants of the spilled Michelada on the counter. He whips his head up when Hanbin, a legal intern Jihoon interviewed once, serves him his drink, a slight grin etched on his lips. Before Jihoon could get his hands on the disposable glass shot, a hand knocks him away. He almost topples off his seat.

Jihoon, baffled, frowns at the guy who shamelessly gulped down the contents of his stolen drink in one-go without flinching—as if it’s water. The guy asks Hanbin for more, raising two fingers up, his voice tight from the aftertaste, slurring to add more Red Bull. The thief takes the seat beside him and groans a little, mumbling something about ‘goddamned spicy food.’

“I’m sorry, was that your drink?”

“Yeah, it was—” he starts, about to give him a piece of his mind—and then, when Jihoon finally registers the guy’s face, he fucking _stills_.

The guy squints at him and asks, “I’m sorry but have we…met before?”

Jihoon feels his face warm up. _Yeah, when you were stripping in front of everyone during Christmas Eve._ A coincidence, one would say. Perhaps, _fate_ or some bullshit like that.

“No,” he lies. Explaining such an event to a probable drunk person is a hassle. And for some reason, he wants to believe himself, too. Talking to the guy who eye-fucked him in the middle of a party isn’t exactly what he had in mind for tonight, especially when it led him a bad yet fulfilling case of wet dreams after. No big deal. He just spent his whole week thinking of this guy, really. _No big deal._

“Oh,” the guy blinks. “I’m sorry, I’m a bit—” he swirls his fingers. “Ya know. But I can live.”

Jihoon stares at him.

“My name is Soonyoung,” he continues, smiling. “And I take it you’re a Jagerbomb person?”

“No,” Jihoon clears his throat, crossing his arms. “I’m more of a tequila person.”

“Ah, tequila,” the guy—Soonyoung—nods. He stares off the distance, and says, “I remember my times with tequila—wait, _no_ , I actually don’t know what happens to me after I drink tequila. You know?” he turns to Hanbin and whistles, “Hey, Hanbin! One tequila please,” he throws a greasy wink at Jihoon, “It’s on me, beautiful.”

Jihoon snorts. “Sure, _handsome_ ,” he doesn’t budge when Soonyoung leans in closer—in fact, he does the same. He whispers, “all drinks are for free, though, so I don’t know how you’re gonna deal with that.”

Soonyoung chuckles and breaks a centimeter away to get the drink from Hanbin, who mumbled, ‘might as well give you two some condoms.’ He hands the Patron to Jihoon himself and says, “it’s the thought that counts.”

“Is it now?” Jihoon doesn’t take his eyes off of Soonyoung when he consumes the drink. He doesn’t know where he’s getting his oozing confidence from, and if anything, it shots alarm bells off his head. He’s not too drunk for this.

“I’m Kwon Soonyoung,” he repeats his introduction, but this time with a last name, as if he wants to emphasize something. Maybe for the sake of sincerity, an interest. “And you are?”

“Lee Jihoon,” he replies, finding himself smiling. “And I lied. We did meet before.”

“Me too,” Soonyoung laughs, it’s short and nice to hear. “I knew we did. Christmas Eve, right?”

“Yeah.”

“I mean—how could I forget someone as beautiful as you?”

Jihoon blinks, a bit taken aback. But he recollects himself and replies, “and how could I forget someone who _bravely_ stripped in front of everyone?”

They both laugh. Soonyoung, once again, orders another round of drinks for them. “So, Jihoon, right?”

“Soonyoung.”

“Tell me about yourself.” Soonyoung says.

“What is this? A blind date?”

“Shit, you’ve been through those, too?”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods, taking a sip of tequila as soon as Hanbin served it. “A lot of times actually.”

“Me too. My cousin sets me up all the time,” Soonyoung licks his lips, shrugging. “I only do it because I owe him a lot.”

“Well, for me, it’s my best friend who sets me up all the time, although I don’t know the exact reason why I go to the dates,” Jihoon swirls his fingers around the rim of the shot. He grins, “but I like strawberries, milk and I work under my best friend’s company. He’s the host of the party.”

“Seungcheol?”

“You know him?”

“Yeah…he’s my cousin’s fiancé,” Soonyoung says. “Huh, small world.”

Jihoon nods. They fall silent for a short while after that—but Soonyoung saves the day. “I don’t usually strip, you know.”

“Of course,” Jihoon shrugs. “And I assume you don’t usually play Uno?”

“Hey, Uno is a game of luck. Just like Monopoly.”

Jihoon actually laughs. “Okay, but have you tried poker?”

“That—I’m bad at that,” Soonyoung confesses. “They were actually going to play strip poker at first, but I suggested Uno to lessen my chances of _completely_ stripping down.”

“But you did.”

“I did,” Soonyoung shakes his head and whistles. “Though I don’t really remember most of it. At least, in my head, I didn’t lose that much dignity. And fuck what other people say, right?”

He grins and Jihoon finds himself doing the same. It’s infectious, under the stream of different colored lights. “Yeah,” he keeps up with him. “Fuck them.”

“I just hope they won’t post it on the internet, though? Because what if I apply for a job and my future boss finds that?”

Jihoon thinks of the possibility. He might even download it 1080p if given the chance, but he’s a proper man with morals and dignity. He thinks. He _seriously_  would not jerk off about it.

Soonyoung continues talking, “I got offered to work for a strip club once.”

“Well, you have potential.” Jihoon replies. It’s good that he could only come up of short ones—he doesn’t want to look giddy or something. He orders for another drink, and this time it’s gin. Soonyoung orders a long island.

“You think so?” Soonyoung brightens up. He chuckles, “I got too much in my hands already. I mean, I’m a dance and taekwondo teacher, plus I work in a radio station. A busy man, that’s what I am.”

“I was joking about the stripping thing. Are you seriously considering it?”

“So you don’t think I’m hot?”

Jihoon stares at him. Not with that ego. “And here I was, starting to think you were a pleasant person.”

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding,” Soonyoung assures. “I promise.”

“Of course you are,” Jihoon says without malice.

“If anything, I think you’re the one who’s really hot.”

“What?” Jihoon blushes. How greasy is this guy?

Soonyoung’s drunk, slurring over his words, chuckling in between. And Jihoon lets it slide. But he alarmingly reads his thoughts, “you know, when you’re drunk, you tend to say a lot of things. Including the truth.”

Jihoon is perplexed.

“I just dead ass complimented you,” Soonyoung says—reiterates. “I really think you’re pretty.”

“Thank you?” Jihoon blinks. It’s not every day he gets complimented like this. “Is this your poor attempt of flirting?”

“Maybe.”

“You’re failing.”

“Miserably?”

“Not really,” Jihoon laughs, running his fingers through his hair. “You can live.”

And maybe he’s lying a little, because honestly, he’s being swept off his feet. Which is a sign that maybe he should back away a little.

But he doesn’t find the time to. Soonyoung kept talking—about himself, about how he loved dancing more than anything. It’s not one of those talks wherein he makes it a point that the world revolves around him— _no._ Because after every statement, Soonyoung asks for his opinion, encourages him to talk about himself, too. And Jihoon finds himself answering, obliging—like his instinct telling him to _just_ trust him.

There’s some sort of science behind this, he supposes.

Or alcohol.

“I sing sometimes,” Jihoon says, his head resting on his folded arms on the counter. Soonyoung does the same. They’re too close and it’s warm. “I used to make music a lot, back in college—I think.”

“I want to hear you sing, if you let me.”

“But— _hic_ —we’re strangers, silly.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung breathes. Jihoon lifts his head, a bit dizzy from the alcohol.

And then, Soonyoung presses his lips against his’. It knocks him off, somehow. Before he could respond, Soonyoung pulls away and says, “I’m sorry.”

The song in the background shifts into a much more mellow one (at least in the ‘turn up’ vocabulary—a thing Hansol made up a few months ago.) The DJ in the booth must be taking a break. Jihoon clears his throat and stands up. “I have to go.”

Soonyoung purses his lips, an unreadable expression tainting his eyes. “Sure.”

Jihoon nods—and just as he was about to walk away—for the first time in his life, it’s not a hand that pulls him back from walking out.

“But why?”

_Words._

He turns around, facing Soonyoung once again and answers honestly, “I don’t know.”

 “Then stay. If you do, maybe you’d find something to hate and then you’d _know_ ,” he jokes lightly, his chin resting on his palm, fingers drumming against his cheek. His elbow patch is soaked from the spilled long island on the counter.

Jihoon nods and then stays by the makeshift bar with him a little longer.

He doesn’t find any reason to hate at all. Not from the first second.

 

 

At one point, they kiss—make out even—when both of them downed too many drinks and lost all sense of sobriety—alarm bells in Jihoon’s head be damned. Jihoon pulls away, giggling, and slithers to the dance floor, not taking his eyes off of Soonyoung. And Soonyoung watches him dance, tongue resting between his lips.  

He follows him after a few seconds, and that’s when Jihoon learns that Soonyoung is really good at dancing. Soonyoung is grinding his hard crotch against his ass, sucking and biting his neck, leaving marks, grunting a rough ‘ _fuck’_ against his ear every once in a while. The music might be loud, but it’s alright, Jihoon _hears._ Soonyoung grips his waist, sliding his hand under his sweatshirt, feeling up the plane of his stomach and occasionally brushing his fingertips against his nipples. Usually, Jihoon would back away, refuse—but it’s Soonyoung and he wants _more._ His hormones are all over the place and all he wants Soonyoung to do is fuck him against the floor, the wall— _anything._

Jihoon turns around and hops on him, locking his legs around Soonyoung’s waist. Soonyoung carries him just fine, his hand against his back and the other right against his bottom. They kiss, on the lips, for the first time that night—and it wasn’t anything gentle; all tongue, teeth, and swollen lips as the after-effect. They spend minutes that felt like seconds doing that, in the middle of the dance floor.

It’s 30 minutes before midnight when Soonyoung drops him as gently as he could, panting against his mouth, his breath smelling of alcohol. “ _Fuck,_ ” he whispers. “I want to fucking take you home.”

And he does. They leave Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s house, hand-in-hand, lucky enough to find an empty taxi driving by. When they got inside, Jihoon scrambles on Soonyoung’s lap, attaching his lips on Soonyoung’s jaw, sucking and kissing all the way down to his collarbones. Soonyoung kneads his ass, pressing his middle finger against his clothed crack, teasing. Soonyoung says something to the driver—probably his address—but Jihoon doesn’t hear. Soonyoung palms his covered crotch and mumbles against his lips, “my place.”

The taxi driver rolls up the partition when Soonyoung dips his hand under Jihoon’s waistband, the latter moaning loudly—maybe even louder than the early fireworks in the sky.

 

The trip to Soonyoung’s complex is a blur. The next thing he knows, Soonyoung is already tracing kisses down his chest, the ends of his sweatshirt rolled on his collar. He groans loudly in the middle of the corridor, begging Soonyoung to get on with it and fuck him. There could’ve been a passerby, but both couldn’t care less.

“Excited?”

“Fuck you.”

Soonyoung punches a code on the door beside them, dragging him all the way inside. All Jihoon could see, hear and think of was _Soonyoung._ Soonyoung pushing him down on the bed, stripping him naked, Soonyoung sucking his nipple while his hand did wonders on his cock, his thumb brushing against the slit wet with pre-come. Fuck, Jihoon had never felt this way with anyone, didn’t feel like coming any second like a virgin being touched for the first time. He feels helpless like this, whimpering when Soonyoung hasn’t properly touched him yet, when he feels orgasm building up inside him at a fast pace. He keens with need and Soonyoung indulges.

“ _Soonyoung,_ ” he cries, gripping the blonde’s shoulder. “Soonyoung, please. Do something. Do anything. _Please_.”

And maybe it’s the alcohol talking, too—an uncontrollable subconscious Jihoon couldn’t get a grip of. Not in this moment, anyway.

“What do you want me to do, Jihoonie?”

“Touch me, please,” Jihoon pleads, lifting his hips, trying to get more friction.

“But I already am,” Soonyoung teases, lifting Jihoon’s chin. He presses his thumb against the latter’s lips, and immediately, Jihoon sucks on it. The taller soon added another finger or two, and Jihoon is just as obedient.

“ _More_ ,” Jihoon moans. “W-want you to…touch me more. Want you to fuck me ‘til I can’t walk.”

Soonyoung tuts, and flips him over on fours. Soonyoung caresses his back and slaps his ass before slipping two wet fingers inside him, spreading his cheeks apart. He blows on his hole before probing his tongue inside. Jihoon moans loudly, almost screaming against the pillow because of a simple flick of Soonyoung’s tongue.

“ _F-fuck! S-Soonyoung. Please,_ oh my god— _” and fuck_ , Soonyoung is so good to him, rimming him like a fucking god. Soonyoung flats his tongue then, lapping and sucking repeatedly, only stopping when he feels like Jihoon was about to come. He wipes his mouth, chuckling lightly when Jihoon whimpers for the nth time tonight. Jihoon turns around and wraps his arms around Soonyoung’s neck, “Please put it in— _fuck._ ”

Soonyoung scrambles to look for the condom and lube placed inside the first drawer beside his bed. He rolls the condom on his cock and without warning—slams into Jihoon so hard that the bed squeaks loudly, enough to compete with the distant buzzing of the fireworks outside the apartment complex. And it’s all too much. Jihoon could only focus on the feeling Soonyoung is giving him.

11:57pm when Soonyoung finds his prostate.

11:58 when Soonyoung rams onto him, falling into an unordered rhythm, gripping Jihoon’s waist.

11:59 when they come. Together.

And the year passes like that; 12:00am when Soonyoung presses a kiss against his lips, falling on the space beside him after. Jihoon doesn’t budge nor flinch when Soonyoung wraps his arms around him, their alcohol-induced breath mingling with each other. The fireworks go off outside, meters and meters away, louder and brighter. It’s a Happy New Years.

 

☼☼☼

 

Jihoon would rather deal with monthly fees than hangovers.

Because monthly fees don’t give him that much of a headache than hangovers do, and that’s saying something, because monthly fees are usually the enemy, an inevitable stage in life. Meanwhile, hangovers are something that he brings upon himself, and it reminds him of an upcoming wave of regret.

He wakes up to an unfamiliar room and sheets, and his initial thought that it was just _another_ night. But his chest tells him otherwise.

He carefully turns around, and _almost_ yells when he was greeted by Soonyoung’s sleeping face. He takes a deep breath and gently removes the arm on his waist. He groans a little from the soreness of his lower body.

He shakes when he sits up, fighting the invisible weight pulling him down. He remembers little of what happened last night: Seungcheol’s party, drinking with Soonyoung, dancing with Soonyoung, Soonyoung taking him— _okay_ , maybe he remembers a lot, but he opts to push everything away at the very back of his mind and not look back.

When he’s fully clothed already and about to leave, Soonyoung stirs, the sheets rumpling under him. Jihoon pauses, his hand resting on the doorknob of the bedroom. He contemplates whether or not to thank him for the night.

“Good morning,” Soonyoung greets, his voice low and croaky. “You’re leaving already?”

Jihoon turns around and clears his throat, “Yeah,” he bites his lip. “Uhm…”

“‘Thanks for the night?’” Soonyoung props himself up with his elbow. “Is that what you were going to say?”

“No,” Jihoon lies, slightly put off and alarmed when Soonyoung reads his mind. “I was going to say, ‘Happy New Year.’”

Soonyoung laughs. “Happy New Year. You want breakfast?”

Jihoon hopes Soonyoung doesn’t hear his stomach grumbling. He covers it with an excuse. “I really have to go.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung says.

There’s some sort of acceptance there—and it’s something that Jihoon catches. He’s used to one-night stands. If there’s anything constant: it’s the sex, the ritual to leave the morning after, and zero feelings. But there’s something so painfully familiar about Soonyoung the he couldn’t pinpoint; maybe it was the company he gave him during New Years Eve, a rare occurrence for him during a holiday.

Maybe Soonyoung made him feel a little less lonely. But he was not the one to get attached to people he just met in less than 48 hours.

Soonyoung dresses up as well and walks toward him. Behind him, Soonyoung opens the door, but Jihoon doesn’t turn around—not yet anyway, too intoxicated of the remnants of whatever cologne Soonyoung had on last night. And it catches him off guard—how close they were, how Soonyoung is looking down on him, and how he’s not saying a single word.

Jihoon faces away then, when he sees the marks on his neck—marks he left on him. Eyes on his shoes, breathing somewhat unsteady, he says, “I really have to go.”

Soonyoung nods. When Jihoon lifts his head just as he takes a step forward, his eyes widen and his heart skips a beat.

The universe is funny, he decides. It’s a fucked up comedian by the local comedy bar downtown; rotten tomatoes and offensive jokes. Jihoon’s mouth gapes open.

He imagined this scene a thousand times—the concept of it rather. However, _this_ —this isn’t how he imagined meeting his roommate.

If they were intersecting lines, this is the point where they meet.

He looks back at Soonyoung and then to the post-it notes on the fridge, his very own jacket hung on the couch rest, and the door to his room on the other side of the apartment.

“Bye!” he says in a small voice. _Smooth_. He runs to the door and exits, Soonyoung’s goodbye left hanging in the air. And he’s going to catch that ‘goodbye’ someday, sometime tomorrow, or sometime later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in which soonyoung literally carries jihoon home HAHA (now you know where i got the title + from fun's 'we are young')
> 
> also, it's my first time writing smut pls dont look at me im s o sorry
> 
> RIP my google search history, too


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> blood tw!!!

Jihoon spends the first day of the year like this: running to the bank to withdraw money, going to the nearest drugstore to purchase the cheapest foundation they have, and eating a greasy cheeseburger by a small fast food chain downtown.

It’s not exactly what he had in mind, to be honest. Perhaps, it’s a bit better than lazing around, or maybe, even working on his financial reports—but his apartment is currently occupied by the person he doesn’t exactly want to be reckoned with at the moment.

Circumstances are circumstances.

The waiter stares at him weirdly when he stays a few more minutes after finishing his burger. For a better translation, internally panicking whilst keeping a straight face. It’s an invisible juxtaposition of a conflicted man with a one-night stand in the back of his mind (and horribly covered hickeys, thanks to his expertly skills in applying foundation), and a person who just want to go home and relax. The waiter seems to understand him somehow, so he left him alone with a receipt, a coin change and a sympathetic expression.

Happy new year.

Jihoon uses the coin change for a good use, and that is consulting his best friend and his best friend’s fiancé through a friendly payphone.

He punches in the number and waits. The phone rings a few seconds after.

“Happy new year! Who are you and what do you want in the wee of ten o’clock in the morning?”

Jihoon scoffs. “Aren’t you rude? What if I was a totally different person?”

“Jihoon?”

“Yeah,”

“Now that the first question has been answered, what do you want in the wee of ten o’clock in the morning. What the fuck?”

“I need your advice.”

“That’s new,” Seungcheol says. “Christmas might be over, but Seungcheol Claus still accepts wishes— _hoe, hoe, hoe_.”

“I’m desperate, that’s why,” Jihoon explains. “Something bad happened.”

“Okay, what’s up?”

“You know the roommate I have? The one you think that’s a ghost?”

“Yeah, what about him?”

“Well, he’s real.”

“Holy shit,” Seungcheol pauses. “ _Really?_ ”

“Yeah, oh my god,” Jihoon closes his eyes and _tries_ not to remember the happenings last night. “He’s damn real, alright.”

“Why are you so upset?” Seungcheol asks. “You’ve been dying to meet him ever since what? The first day he moved in.”

“It’s because I slept with him,” Jihoon says slowly, cutting to the chase.

“That’s what roommates usually do. You usually sleep together, in the same place, under the same roof.”

“No, not like that,” Jihoon sighs, running his fingers through his hair. He inserts another coin to the payphone. “I had sex with him.”

“ _What the fuck?!”_ Seungcheol screams. He hears him shuffle over the line, muttering a soft, ‘ _Sorry, babe, Jihoon on the phone. Just sleep.’_

Jeonghan.

It’s best if he keeps the identity of his roommate to himself for now, since, conveniently, Jeonghan happens to be Soonyoung’s cousin. In fact, it’s kind of unbelievable since Jeonghan hadn’t mention _him_ beforehand. But for now, he shouldn’t get into hypotheses and conclusions.

“It was really good,” Jihoon whispers before he could stop himself.

“On a scale of one to ten.”

“Eight,” he says decisively. He thought about it while taking the pickle out of the burger earlier.

“Shit. You don’t give anyone an eight,” Seungcheol says. “Okay, you need to tell me _everything_ —sans the sex and the size.”

“He was really big.”

“Okay, thank you. I just told you I didn’t want to hear,” he must be rolling his eyes now. “Anyway, what advice do you need? The only thing I could come up with right now is ‘keep banging him’—or rather, ‘keep getting banged by him.’”

“Fuck you,” Jihoon says. He enters another coin. He sighs and continues, “So, he’s my roommate, right? Can you imagine my fucking reaction when I found out?”

“Don’t tell me you ran out from your own apartment.”

“That’s exactly what I did,” he groans, massaging his forehead to ease the creeping headache. “When we were doing _it_ , I was kind of shaken up when he took me to his place. It was too familiar—but it was dark and he was giving me a handjob, so I didn’t actually think too much of it.”

“Go on.”

“So, he took me to his bedroom,” he says slowly. “Seungcheol, I’ve never been to his bedroom. Remember the red tape? It was our boundary line. When I woke up, the place was totally unfamiliar to me. Star Wars posters everywhere.”

“Star Wars? I’m already liking this guy,” Seungcheol comments. “But anyway—no offense, dude, I think you’re being too hard on yourself.”

“Is that the sugarcoated version of ‘I think you’re overreacting’?”

“Maybe,” Seungcheol shrugs. “Look, Jihoon, just go home and confront the guy. If it took you guys a whole year to not meet, then what’s the difference this year? Your schedules won’t still allow you to intervene. Like I said, there’s some Lake House shit going on.”

“You’re right,” Jihoon bangs his head on the phone. “I’m so stupid.”

“You know what I think?” Seungcheol sighs. “I think you still want to see him.”

“If I wanted to continue seeing him, then I wouldn’t have run away, don’t you think?”

“What I meant is that—you still want to see him as the guy he is, but not as the roommate you have,” he says slowly, “it’s because you have a separate expectation for that.”

He reaches his apartment complex minutes later, slightly panting, his hands resting on his knees. His breath is visible from the low temperature; his nose feels stuffy and he shivers under his sweatshirt. It’s cold, the winter breeze biting him like a prey.

With every step, he shakes from nervousness; with every heartbeat, he thinks of what to say when he faces Soonyoung again. Plans aren’t usually followed, but it’s better than having none. Like with every war, there are assigned positions—where to fire and which base they should solely focus upon. In the end, it would always depend on the opposite side—they could fire to the left, to the right or somewhere unthinkable. And they’d scatter, adjust, won’t even stay put—but if trust is superficially present, then maybe they’d stay. However, it all boils down to surviving.

Jihoon thinks of what this could boil down to.

A sense of camaraderie perhaps, maybe a sprinkle of gratefulness. He has so much to say, so much to thank for—but at the same time he feels like pretending nothing ever happened. And it’s a huge weakness of his’: always resorting to running away. Ignorance is bliss only if you choose to not think of how ignorant you _actually_ are.

He rides the elevator, his hand holding onto his other elbow. He fixes up a little in front of the mirror, hoping to look somewhat presentable. If he’s going to talk to him again, then he should do it with dignity.

The elevator doors open. He steps out carefully, looking up ahead, not even sparing a glance to other directions, blocking out the mindless chatters of his other neighbors. It has a taste of determination to it, his perseverance and will to get _this_ over with. The sooner the better.

_You won’t even meet again after this. You’d go back to your own schedule and he’d go back to his’. Everything will be the same again._

He reaches the door to his apartment and takes a deep breath. He is a man of pride. Confronting one person should be a piece of cake to him.

His hand hovers the keypad _. Just punch in a few numbers, twist the knob, and you’ll get a game changer._ Life is sometimes simple like that.

The door clicks. His rests his hand on the doorknob and takes a few deep breaths.

“ _Jihoon?”_

He freezes. The voice sounds too clear to come from the apartment.

“Jihoon!”

Jihoon mutters a low ‘shit’ just about he turned to see Soonyoung jogging to him, plastic bag in hand. Without much thinking, Jihoon yelps and enters the apartment quickly. As soon as he was inside, he rests his weight against the door—an attempt to prevent the other from entering. So much for pride.

“Jihoon?” Soonyoung half-yells, his voice resonating through the door. A loud bang follows.

“Shut up!” _Smooth._

“Are you a thief or something?”

“I said _shut up!_ ”

“What the hell are you doing there?” the door knob shakes. “How did you know the passcode?”

“Shut up!”

“Isn’t this a great way to meet the guy you just slept with,” he hears Soonyoung mumble. “You can’t take anything from there, though.”

“I-I won’t take anything,” Jihoon says, finally regaining the ability to formulate other words than _shut up._ “Just—stay there.”

The banging stops. “Are you…”

“I’m not a thief,” Jihoon inches closer to the microscopic space between the door and its frame. “I’m definitely not a thief, trust me. And I wouldn’t initially know the code to the apartment if I was shit drunk last night.”

“Are you…my roommate?” Soonyoung deadpans, his voice wavering slightly.

Jihoon bites his lip. This guy could catch on pretty fast. “Well, if you put it in that way…then yes.”

“ _Fuck_.”

“Literally,” Jihoon whispers.

“You know,” Soonyoung clears his throat after a few beats of silence. “I could just punch in the code and enter.”

“Wait _no_ , let me think!”

“It’s my apartment, too!”

Jihoon pauses. After much consideration, he steps away from the door, waiting for it to open. Eventually, it does, ever so slowly and carefully. It’s as if they’re stepping on thin ice.

“I’m really sorry,” Jihoon says as soon as Soonyoung stood in front of him. “I kind of panicked.”

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung assures. He coughs a little and says, “I bought instant ramyun and triangle kimbap for two. You want to have brunch together?”

Jihoon blinks. _Just like that?_

“What?”

“Let’s have brunch together,” Soonyoung repeats, lifting the plastic bag for him to see. He says cheekily, “I’m sorry if it’s not as fancy as the breakfast and dinner you leave for me, but I can pretty much wind up the best instant ramyun you’ll ever taste—if that’s possible.”

Jihoon finds himself laughing—half-confused and half-relieved, but overall, it was nice. _It felt nice._ “Okay.”

 

As Soonyoung prepared the ramyun, Jihoon unwraps and places the triangle kimbap on one small plate. He finishes earlier of course, and while he waits for Soonyoung, he thinks that maybe Seungcheol was right. _Maybe he was just overreacting._

Soonyoung finishes minutes after, placing the bowl of ramyun in front of him gently. The chopsticks follow.

“There’s kimchi in the refrigerator,” Jihoon says quietly, slightly for the sake of just saying something. “You can get if you want.”

“I’ll get it for you,” Soonyoung says. While he does, he asks, “You’re a fan of spicy food?”

“Not really,” Jihoon clears his throat. “I don’t go anything beyond my in-law’s kimchi.”

“And Jeonghan hyung’s, too,” Soonyoung adds knowingly, expectedly staring at Jihoon. He gets the kimchi and closes the refrigerator.

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods. _Small world._ “His kimchi is really nice.”

 “I can’t handle spicy food, too,” Soonyoung says, “but, uhm, kimchi is really nice.”

Jihoon sighs. “This is really awkward.”

“It gets more awkward if you say that it’s awkward.”

Silence.

Soonyoung sits down and before diving in, both nod at each other. The sound of their slurping mixes with the ticking of the clock and the slight rustling of the window. It became a food chain: them eating the ramyun, and then the silence eating them alive.

“For the record,” Soonyoung starts, mouth full of noodles and kimbap. “It’s kind of funny.”

Jihoon stares up at him.

“That we’re roommates,” Soonyoung continues. “ _Fate_ , huh?”

“Maybe,” Jihoon replies. He pursed his lips, “and Soonyoung?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” Jihoon says sincerely. There’s warmth spreading in his chest. The cause of it might be _this_ moment—but it’s too vague for erupting such a specific feeling inside of him.

Maybe it’s only vague because he wants it to be.

“For everything. Not just for last night but for you know, the whole thing.”

 _You made me feel a little less lonely_.

After finishing their food, they clean up, falling into yet another silent chore. When Jihoon finished washing the dishes, that’s when Soonyoung speaks up again.

“Thank you, too. Somehow, you kept me company.”

Perhaps, they must’ve crossed paths before, in this very apartment. One of them might’ve already fallen asleep, while the other just got home from a tiring day of work. At one point, they co-existed, breathed at the same place. And for some reason, it makes Jihoon happy.

“Listen, uh, I have to go somewhere,” Soonyoung informs after finishing a can of root beer, wiping his lips with his sleeve. “You know, work. I don’t think I’ll be home for tonight, too.”

“Oh, okay. Be safe on the way,” Jihoon says rigidly. Remembering their conversation during the party last night, he asks, “Radio station?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung confirms. “Andromeda. Ring a bell?”

“Wait, you're DJ Hoshi?” Jihoon’s eyes widened. “So that means you do it with Seokmin and Seungkwan?”

“Correct,” Soonyoung grins. “Why? Have you been listening to us for quite some time now?”

“Yeah, but—” he bites his lips. “You’ve been hanging out with some of my friends and you’re, uh, cousins with Jeonghan. How come we’ve never met?”

Soonyoung purses his lips, carefully thinking of an answer. And what he said glued everything together, doubts and crises disappearing altogether. He says it gently: “Maybe because the universe wanted us to meet like this.”

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung was true to his words. He doesn’t come home.

Another recurring day means the expected fall back to what they were before: not meeting, their schedules conflicting. It’s almost like a dalliance. Almost like an ephemeral dream.

 _You made me feel a little less lonely_.

_As the person I properly met last night and as my roommate._

He wanted to say that, those words, the truth of it all. All his life, from what he can remember, loneliness gnaws and creeps up on him at the most mundane situations. He feels like an empty shell walking on ground. It’s critical tonight, though, the realization. He feels like he’s just on the way to living while everyone is already situated at the very height of life. He looks around him and everyone’s getting engaged, finding their significant others. He looks around him and then back to his hands where it doesn’t have another to hold.

Seungcheol, habitually, enters his office without knocking. He hopes that he doesn’t ask anymore about what happened with him and Soonyoung.

He doesn’t, instead—he greets him with an insult. “You look like shit.”

“Thanks,” Jihoon says, unmoving. “Anything else?”

Seungcheol tsks, “your financial report’s due date is moved next week. The CEO of the Im Group is having the time of his life with his husband in Maldives,” he then mutters, “the bastard. Connections suck when you’re at the other receiving end. I had to let it pass.”

“Just inquire for other investors if it bothers you that much,” Jihoon suggests, “Jaebum is a pain in the ass anyway.”

Seungcheol stares at him.

Jihoon rolls his eyes, batting the thick, ring-bind documents at Seungcheol. “Not in that way, _jesus_ ,”

Seungcheol is unfazed. “You sure?”

“You know what’s awkward? Talking about people you slept with in the past. A _now_ married one, at that.”

“I didn’t say anything,” Seungcheol raises his both hands up, looking as innocent as he can. “but his wedding was pretty amazing; money here, money everywhere. I was kind of surprised the cake wasn’t made out of gold,” he shrugs. “ _Anyway_ , this isn’t exactly what I’m here for: Dr. Hong called me earlier.”

Jihoon purses his lips. “So, _when_?”

“A week from now. He also asked me if you’ve been taking your meds.”

“I have,” Jihoon answers. “But not as frequently. It makes me feel like shit.”

“You’ll be okay,” Seungcheol’s tone immediately shifts, and Jihoon catches that he’s not just talking about the meds. “You’re going to get through this.”

Jihoon nods and if anything, it doesn’t show any sign of finality that he wanted to achieve. Instead, it’s full of doubt. “Hope so.”

 

 

Lunch break comes and Jihoon takes the liberty to close his computer for a while and find something to eat by the lounge.

When he opened the door to the place, the person right in front of the coffee maker—Hansol—doesn’t notice. He was about to greet him ‘hello’ until he saw Hansol slipping off a ring from his finger and pocketing it. Jihoon squints and decides not to delve into it.

“You’re blocking the coffee maker,” he says, hoping he won’t sound a conspicuous witness.

Hansol jumps. “Oh, I’m sorry, hyung. I’ll get going now.”

“Hansol, happy monthsary to you and Seungkwan. He’s been gushing about it ever since this morning. Have you done anything yet?”

Hansol clears his throat, nodding, “Uh, yeah. I will.”

And then he leaves just like that, brushing past him. Jihoon shakes his head. He must be stressed at work, so he just leaves it as that.

 

 

☾ ☾ ☾

 

 

 

The 1st of January; Soonyoung, Seokmin and Seungkwan exit the building together after their New Year special broadcast. It’s a routine, them going home together. But this time, Soonyoung had asked Seungkwan if he could stay in his place for the night. The latter agreed, and while he’s curious, he doesn’t ask why. (It’s not every day that Soonyoung asks to spend the night in his place, so it must be something really serious.)

From the other side of the street, Hansol waves at them. Seungkwan runs to him and gives him a peck on the cheek. “Okay, we’ll get going now. Soonyoung, you don’t mind if Hansol hitches with us too, right?”

“No, of course, it’s fine,” Soonyoung says. “Thank you.”

“Why aren’t you staying at your own place?” Seokmin asks. Soonyoung clenches his fists.

“Because, Seokmin,” his voice shakes. “I finally met my roommate.”

Seokmin stills. “That’s good for y—”

He punches Seokmin square on the jaw, the latter’s stride stumbling from the impact. Seungkwan yells and tends to Seokmin while Hansol pulls him back.

“Good for me?” Soonyoung repeats. “ _Good for me?!_ ”

Seokmin stays quiet.

“Soonyoung, what the fuck are you doing?!” Seungkwan screams, pulling out a handkerchief to wipe the blood off of Seokmin’s face.

He breaks out from Hansol’s hold. He grips Seokmin’s collar and punches him again.

_“Soonyoung, stop!”_

“Ex-boyfriend, huh,” Soonyoung laughs bitterly, cracking his knuckles. “You fucking liar.”

And it felt good, punching him. He’s been shaken up ever since this morning, and to be quite honest, solely staring at Seokmin gives him a fucking headache. All of their memories spent together be damned.

“Tell me, Soonyoung, who’s the damn winner in this situation,” Seokmin finally speaks up. “Is it me or you?”

“Fuck you,” Soonyoung spats, seething with unamicable anger. 

“Is it me, Soonyoung?” Seokmin raises his voice, “is it me?!”

Seokmin steps forward, “every fucking day, Soonyoung, I wanted to hold him, to care for him, to assure him that everything’s going to be alright. But guess what? I couldn’t. I can’t. Although _you_ —you had the privilege to do that,” he grits, “and you fucking blew it.”

Soonyoung’s vision grew red then, and instinctively from anger, he punches Seokmin once again, but this time the latter fights back. His breath halts a little when Seokmin hit the juncture of his nose and mouth. He’s bleeding, Seungkwan is shouting, and Hansol is trying to talk some sense into him. But before he can pick himself up, Seokmin kicks him on the leg.

“You fucking shit,” Soonyoung manages out, wheezing. “You had the chance to do all of that but you didn’t.”

“And what? You’re gonna sweep him off his feet and take him back? You’re a fucking coward, Soonyoung. If I hadn’t set you two up, then maybe you wouldn’t even be where you are right now. I kind of regret doing that now though,” he laughs and it riles Soonyoung up. “And who says I fucking didn’t? He’s pretty good in bed, you kn—”

He raises his fist to punch him again, but Hansol—with Seungkwan this time—successfully stops him from doing so. They hold him back, their grips harder, and Soonyoung _feels_ ; feels like fucking dying if he doesn’t throw another punch, hurt someone. “You’re a fucking asshole, Seokmin.”

“Stop, Soonyoung. Let’s go,” Hansol says, pushing him back. “Let’s go.”

“I don’t want to see your face ever again,” Soonyoung chokes out.

Seungkwan is now crying, gripping the ends of his sweatshirt, short of breath and incoherent. “Stop please,” he whispers, “let’s go, Soonyoung. Let’s just go, okay?”

And just like that, he loses a friend. A best friend. In fact, at this moment, it felt satisfying, no guilt or whatsoever. Seungkwan is crying on his shoulder, attempting to lead him away from Seokmin with the help of Hansol—but Soonyoung only stands still, rigid like a statue. “Seokmin, the company was nice while it lasted.”

 

 

☼☼☼

 

 

 

“The situation might be complicated,” Jisoo, his psychologist says, “but you liked it, didn’t you?”

“He’s my roommate,” Jihoon says, gripping the pillow against his chest. “I don’t do roommates. Plus, we’re back to normal. We haven’t been meeting.”

“Well, if you want to do something about your libido, then having him as your roommate is more of an advantage than a disadvantage—that is, if you make a move. Why don’t you do something?”

Jihoon pauses. “I hate it when you make sense.”

“Well, I am a licensed psychologist. I’m here to help you,” Jisoo says with a gentle smile. He clicks his pen and writes on his notes. “I’ll text you your next check-up. Plus, I heard from Dr. Kim a new med rep came and introduced him to this new pill. He already studied it and wants you to try it.”

“Okay, that’s fine,” he trusts them. “The meds Dr. Kim gave me last time makes me feel like shit, anyway,” he stands up and gives Jisoo a small nod. “Thank you, Dr. Hong.”

“No problem,” Jisoo says, standing up as well. “I’ll walk you out.”

And so he did, holding up the door for him. Both step out of the room just in time Seungcheol runs to them, a cup of hospital coffee in hand.

“Seungcheol,” Jisoo greets. “How are you?”

“Doing fine,” Seungcheol grins. “And I should be the one asking you the same thing. I heard you’re getting married?”

Jihoon perks. “You were? You didn’t tell me?”

“You didn’t ask,” he raises his hand, the silver ring glistening against the light. “It’s pretty, isn’t it?”

Yes, it was pretty.

And it’s familiar, too.

Jihoon’s relationship with Jisoo is strictly professional, if he excludes his therapies with him, wherein he has to open up about himself. But with Seungcheol, Jisoo is friendly, since both were friends during college.

“It is,” Seungcheol takes a closer look. “So this was the reason why that kid overtimes.”

“I know. I actually can’t wait to be Mr. Chwe—”

“ _What?!”_ Jihoon bursts. “I mean— _what_ , you’re marrying…Hansol?”

It sounds silly, saying it out loud, especially with the assumption that it _is_ Hansol. But he saw him pocketing an identical ring a week ago, and frighteningly, it fits the situation.

Jisoo laughs and what he says after confirms his fear: “yeah, Hansol and I are getting married. Is it really that surprising?”

 

 

 

 

Jihoon doesn’t say anything to anyone, even if he knows that Seungcheol is aware that Hansol is cheating on Jisoo. He goes back to the company, and when he spots Hansol, he couldn’t help but stare at him with disgust.

He goes home earlier than usual, dodging any form of interaction with his co-workers. He’s too stressed to think, to even speak.

“You’re home early.”

“Soonyoung?”

His vision starts to blur then. All he could make out was Soonyoung’s bruise near his mouth, and him yelling his name over and over again. The last thing he could remember was trying to breathe, to get his lungs to work—but the way his heart is palpitating isn’t allowing him to function.

The next thing he knew, everything was black.

 

 

 

 

He hears a voice then, into the subspace—

_“Jihoon, always remember that you are so loved.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Emotional stress and dehydration can be the cause of his fainting. Has he been taking his meds?”

“From what I know, yes.”

“Okay,” Dr. Kim nods. “Seungcheol, Jeonghan…you know he’s still in the recovery stage.”

“It’s been four years,” Seungcheol’s lips tremble. “I hate seeing him suffer like this.”

Dr. Kim sighs and pockets his pen. “We’re trying our best. So far, he’s been receiving his therapies well. Has he been showing signs pertaining to the past?”

“He, uhm,” he gulps. “He remembers a bit of his hometown. He tells me about his parents sometimes. His brother, too, but only because they visit each other. He helps him.”

“That’s good,” Dr. Kim nods. “Before he couldn’t even remember his parents, his hometown, his friends. It was a complete wipeout. Seungcheol and Jeonghan, just look out for him, okay? Don’t put him into a stressful environment, nor into a pressuring situation. I suggest you give him a week off in work. Alert his psychologist about this, too.”

“Okay,” Seungcheol nods. “I will.”

“And Jeonghan?” Dr. Kim says. “I need to have a word with your cousin, if that’s okay.”

“Go ahead,” it’s the first thing Jeonghan says after an hour of crying. “He’s outside.”

Dr. Kim nods and steps outside the room. As soon as Soonyoung saw him, he immediately stood up and asked, “is he okay?”

“He will be,” Dr. Kim answers. “He just fainted from being over-fatigued and from emotional stress. He’s going to be okay.”

Soonyoung stares at his feet. “I hope so.”

“Don’t worry," Dr. Kim assures him. "This time he’d remember when he wakes up.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> kudos and comments are very much appreciated~  
> ++ I'm sorry for the delay?? I'm working on 2 new oneshots + 1 update (I'm so sorry)
> 
> I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter!!
> 
> all the happenings in this chapter happened for a reason. everything will be further explained in the future chapters dont worry <3


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lots of parallels from the previous chapters!!! this is, by far, the quickest update ever omg
> 
> p.s there's a flashback scene dont get confused okay!!!

It all started with Christmas Eve.

Specifically, it started with Jungsik Dang, a very fancy restaurant with an 80,000 won 5-course meal. If it hadn’t been for Momo’s greeting, he wouldn’t have had a wake-up call to leave the date itself.

Momo is _not_ his date, though. In fact, Momo is a lovely woman—very hardworking, very pretty and very talented in the art of dance. She helped him a lot with Nihongo during his stay in Japan, translated hard dance instructions given by the head choreographer in Korean for him. Even if he didn’t like her in _that_ light, he wouldn’t ditch her.

But for reiteration, Momo is not his date.

_“Soonyoung? Is that you?”_

It’s a huge blow in his chest in some way, because he never really expected to see anyone he interacted with in Japan here in Korea. Thinking of his time in Japan gives him shivers, so as much as possible, he tries to stay away from anything that reminds him of it. It’s kind of like a self-therapy.

But Soonyoung replies. He’s thankful for her. “In the flesh.”

Momo walks up to him, her heels loudly clacking against the marble floor. “I didn’t know you came back to Korea! You just went _poof!”_

Soonyoung remembers Momo telling him about a lover in Korea and how she actually took time to learn the language. _It’s shaky_ , he remembers Momo telling him _, because it’s a long distance relationship—but it’s okay._

Soonyoung learns a thing or two after that conversation.

“And you’re here!” he exclaims. “With your lover, perhaps?”

Momo nods, smiling. Her blonde bangs are a little longer compared from before—it glazes over her eyes now, so she brushes it away every second. “We’re getting married,” she shows him the ring. “Sometime around the end of next year hopefully.”

“I’m really happy for you,” Soonyoung says. “You’re going to hold it here?”

“In Japan, actually,” Momo replies. “Which reminds me, we need to exchange numbers. You’re invited to the wedding, of course.”

Soonyoung bites his lip. After much thinking, “of course I’ll go to your wedding. _Here—_ ” he takes out his phone and gives it to Momo. The latter punches in her number. Soonyoung then miss calls her phone.

“Anyway, what are you doing here? Going on a date?”

“Sort of. A blind date.”

Momo cackles, “Soonyoung, you don’t do blind dates.”

“Ever since I returned here, apparently, I do now,” he sighs, running his fingers through his hair. “My cousin sets me up. This is supposedly the last one.”

“I’ve never seen you date, though. Back in Japan, I mean. You practically lived in the practice room,” Momo clears her throat. “If you don’t mind me asking…but have you seen _him?_ He lives here, right? You told me.”

Soonyoung laughs dryly. It came off sadly, though, making Momo bite her tongue for asking such a sensitive question. But to Soonyoung, it was okay. She meant no harm anyway. “I haven’t seen him, no,” he pauses and thinks carefully, a sentiment he has been considering for a while now. “It’d be a Christmas miracle if I do.”

A woman with short hair appears behind Momo and calls for her. Turns out, it was her lover—kind-looking, warm and has a nice speaking voice. Momo introduces them briefly, and just then, Soonyoung realized he was already out of line for the reception. He doesn’t mind.

“Soonyoung, I hope you get your miracle,” Momo whispers before leaving.

He watches Momo and her lover leave the restaurant with a smile on his face. He has so much gratitude for Momo, and he kind of feels like shit for not returning any of it. The only thing he could think of was attending her wedding, which means he’d go back to Japan.

But after everything Momo had done for him, he might as well do.

 

 

***

 

Soonyoung has a talent: pretending to be _extremely_ drunk to the point where he can receive an Oscar. Okay, receiving an Oscar might be an exaggeration, since well—acting drunk is pretty much an easy task if you throw away your dignity (that’s what _actually_ happens when you’re really drunk, though). Soonyoung is kind of offended that people actually believed his simple yet astounding acting after a few shots of Jagerbombs, because, he’s Kwon Soonyoung and 4 or 5 shots of Jagerbombs are _nothing_ to him.

But here he was though, stripping, on the first level of being kind of tipsy. His Bart Simpson boxers are on full display, his shirt and other pieces of clothing are somewhere on the ground, stepped on and probably reeks of mixed liquors. It’s a Merry Merry Christmas.

Being on the loose means not giving a fuck about what people think. While he’s in that state, he’s still sort of frightened that his cousin might come out, yell at him and drag him by the ear. _Kwon Soonyoung, you are not in college anymore!_ Yoon Jeonghan would say, future Mr. Choi. This notion proves how sane Soonyoung is, though, so it’s a good sign. A great sign.

 _And_ , with elongated _a’s_ , he’s also very dumb. Dumb as _fuck_ —because how can he forget? Jeonghan _means_ Seungcheol. Seungcheol is scary as fuck—but a good drinking buddy, at least back in the college days.

_“You fucking suck at strip Uno!”_

And he might’ve replied something, something must’ve came out of his mouth—but it’s quieter compared to his other howls, because, beside Seokmin stood the most beautiful person he had ever laid his eyes on.

He never stopped, being _that_ , shining brighter than all of the stars above.

The jagerbomb helped, the soju helped, all of the alcohol he consumed helped in maintaining his stability— _ironically_. And he’s fucking dumb, because Seungcheol also meant _Jihoon_ —practically best friends since birth. How stupid he was, to think, in this kind of party, Jihoon wouldn’t appear. On top of that, Jeonghan and Seungcheol didn’t warn him about it.

He spends minutes, looking at him. _This isn’t real,_ he thought. How could it be, when he spent almost all of his days in Japan just dreaming about him, thinking of him, missing him. He wasn’t this lucky to witness such a heavenly body in front of him. What had he done to deserve this anyway?

It felt like hours, staring at him, taking in all of his features—but he blinks and Jihoon is off, running away. It almost felt like a dream except he was awake.

 

 

New Year’s Eve was different.

He spent the night before in Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s place. Apparently, the party won’t be held at their humble abode, but instead at a local bar downtown—Seungcheol, ever so rich with money and connections, reserved the whole place, paid for chosen drinks even. Put _free_ and alcohol together, you get a perceivably drunk Soonyoung.

But what he saw by the counter knocked him into sobriety. Or at least half of it. He was drunk enough to saunter up to _him,_ thinking, _I should talk to him—then I’d know he’s real._

He steals his drink, gulps all of the contents down and asks, “I’m sorry, was that your drink?”

He hopes he remembers.

 

 

 

_College, some time after finals:_

 

 _“Have we met before?”_ Jihoon asks—slurs, extending his arm to get the drink from Soonyoung. “I’m pretty sure we haven’t, mister! Who are you to steal my drink!”

Soonyoung is by far, the living, breathing definition of a walking college party. Throwing a party? Invite Kwon Soonyoung—he’s practically a magnet, some would say. For some reason, many girls would only show up because he was there. They try to woo him, grind him on the dance floor—that kind of stuff.

Key word: _try._

Soonyoung, despite the definition, has limitations of course. To put it simply, _his boyfriend_. Before finding Jihoon by the far corner of the living room—a blind spot—Soonyoung have had about a beer pong invite, a crack, brownies and the most common of them all: ‘Kwon, why the fuck are you going home so early? You’re like the life of the party!’

He bumps into Seungcheol a few minutes after, by the dance floor proper. 

“Where the hell is Jeonghan?”

“Where the fuck is Jihoon?”

Both stare at each other for a few seconds. _You’re useless,_ Seungcheol shouts over the loud music. _Likewise,_ Soonyoung replied. Just then though, squinting his eyes, Seungcheol bumping his shoulder as he walked to another direction, fighting the façade of the colored streaming lights, he finds Jihoon sitting with a few people from his course.

So here he was. For other people, this might be the most ironic thing to happen—Kwon Soonyoung, frat boy, usually does the alcohol dealing for the frat—stopping his boyfriend from drinking some more, when in fact, he was the one who actually dragged him to this party in the first place. Remind him that there are other ways to unwind after finals.

“We’re going home,” Soonyoung says to Jihoon’s course-mates. Before Jihoon could take the drink from him, he downs it all in one go. “Babe, let’s go.”

“You’re so mean! You drank it all!” Jihoon whines. “I don’t even know you—” he squints in his eyes. “In fact, you look like my boyfriend.”

“I _am_ your boyfriend,” Soonyoung says. He then takes him by the waist and throws the smaller’s upperbody over his shoulder. Jihoon punches him weakly on his back, but Soonyoung is unfazed. When they reached the miraculously empty bathroom, Soonyoung puts him down and turns him around to face the toilet.

“You’re so weird, why am I facing the toilet?”

“Puke.”

“I’m not going t—”

Soonyoung scrunches his nose from the unpleasant smell but pats Jihoon’s back, gathering his bangs on his other hand. He runs his thumb back and forth, slightly massaging him to ease the nausea.

After Jihoon was done puking, Soonyoung flushes the contents down and wipes Jihoon’s mouth with tissues. He leads him to the sink and asks him to gargle. Jihoon complains but follows him anyway. He drags him to the back door then, leaving the party completely. The music is contained from the outside, the house as an apple among oranges, loud and colorful amongst the others.

“Jihoon, can you walk?”

“Can’t,” Jihoon murmurs, shaking his head. “I want you to carry me home tonight.”

Soonyoung smiles. He presses a short but quick kiss on Jihoon’s forehead before having him on his back. “Of course.”

“Soonyoung,” Jihoon whispers against his neck, nuzzling onto it. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Soonyoung whispers back. If the world was constructed of lies and choosing one truth—it would be this. The truth of it all: love and Jihoon. It fits together so well that Soonyoung couldn’t imagine it not co-existing with each other.

 

 

***

 

 

“His memories are hard to retrieve, since his hippocampal was damaged severely. However, he can recall some of his childhood memories and other general information, but not the memories that recently occurred prior to the incident—meaning, he’s impaired to remember his college days or even his high school days. Though sometimes, he does, but not so much.” Dr. Kim informs. He clicks and unclicks his pen, “usually, retrograde amnesia can be treated over a short period of time. It’s temporary, if you must say.”

“It’s been 4 years,” Soonyoung whispers, shifting on his seat. The clock of Dr. Kim’s office ticks. It’s midnight already.

“Jihoon is a different case, Mr. Kwon,” Dr. Kim says carefully. “I would’ve explained all of this to you before, but it was a shame that you had to leave so early for another country. Japan, correct?”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods, biting his lower lips. He urges Dr. Kim to continue, “why is Jihoon a different case?”

“You see—some patients just give up. They move on with their lives, they create new memories. Of course, we let them. It’s their choice.”

“What does this have to do with Jihoon?” Soonyoung asks.

“When he woke up, the first thing he said, ‘it hurts,’ and while I should be practical as I am a doctor who treats patients with physical injuries, I didn’t think he was talking about physical pain itself,” Dr. Kim says. “But even if; Jihoon doesn’t want to give up, Mr. Kwon,” Dr. Kim takes off his glasses. He looks tired, worn out from all the hours of duty. “He wants to remember.”

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung walks back to Jihoon’s hospital room from Dr. Kim’s office silently, his footsteps loudly padding against the floor of the empty hallway. From afar, he could see Seungcheol sitting on the bench fronting the room, hands in his pockets, in deep thought.

Soonyoung sits beside him. “Where’s Jeonghan hyung?”

“Back at home. After you called us, we panicked so hard. We forgot to lock up the back door before driving all the way here.”

“Is it all good?”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol breathes. “He’s bringing in some food for Jihoon, too. He’ll probably wake up tomorrow or sometime later. His psychologist came by earlier and said he’d need more time to recover from emotional stress. That’s what Dr. Kim said, too.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung nods, pursing his lips. He then says slowly, “look, I didn’t know what happened. He just fainted in front of me.”

“Are you blaming yourself for what happened to him?” Seungcheol asks, now facing him. There’s a slight frown on his face. “Don’t. It occurs once in a while, unfortunately.”

He continues, “what piques my curiosity, though, is why you were there during the scene. Care to explain?”

“We’re roommates,” Soonyoung lets out a deep breath. “I didn’t know. I only found out a week ago.”

“Wait, if you’re his roommate, then you two…” Seungcheol trails off. “ _Okay_ , let’s not talk about that.”

“He told you?”

“You have a huge dick, according to him,” Seungcheol says flatly, disturbingly with a poker face. “It wasn’t the first time he told me that, though. Back in the days, too. You two…were pretty active.”

“Oh come on, you’ve seen my dick,” Soonyoung chuckles. “We were fratmates. It was part of the initiation.”

“Can you please not bring that up,” Seungcheol’s face scrunches. A slight shiver runs up his spine. “When I became the president, the initiation became a lot easier. Lucky asses.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung laughs for the first time this day. And Seungcheol, ever so observant, catches something off about it—but only with the last breath.

“So much for staying away and completely disappearing in his life, yeah?” Seungcheol says. There’s a hint of sadness and anger to the way he said it. “When you came back to Korea—” he pauses. “I wanted to punch you. Wanted to break your face for hurting my best friend. The only thing that prevented me from doing it was because you’re Jeonghan’s cousin and well, you were my friend, too. I, at least, have to keep it civil.”

“I thought I could stay away forever, leave him at the very back of my mind without looking back,” Soonyoung shakes his head. He wipes off the tear in his eye, even if it was just starting to form. “But something always led me back to him. Not a day passed by that I didn’t think of him—even if I was living my dream in Japan while I worked under my dad’s company, earning lots.”

“I remember your e-mails,” Seungcheol says in a low voice. “It made Jeonghan cry every night.”

“At first, it was really hard. Before I could even own a dance studio, I had to go to established ones at first. My Nihongo was so shaky, then. I couldn’t understand the instructions, I kept on fucking up. Everything was so different, so foreign to me,” he smiles sadly, “it was weird because I didn’t have Jihoon beside me. And I thought, _what’s a future without Jihoon in it?_

When I saw him at the party during New Years, drinking alone, I thought it was do or die. I thought that maybe this is my chance again. And you know what?” his vision is suddenly blurry, wet with tears. From here, he could see Jihoon’s sleeping form through the window of the door. “He still looked beautiful. He’s still the most beautiful person I’ve ever laid my eyes on.”

“You know,” Seungcheol’s voice cracks. “You could still do it. I know this sounds like bullshit, but—maybe you two were really destined to meet again.”

“How could you say that after I fucked up so badly?”

“Soonyoung, you went to that blind date in Jungsik Dang, right? During Christmas Eve.”

Soonyoung nods.

Seungcheol smiles, but Soonyoung couldn’t pinpoint what kind it was. “Who did you meet?”

“I met…the person you set me up with,” he says—lies. “He was really nice.”

“A while ago you told me that Jihoon was the most beautiful person you’ve ever met—and now he’s just ‘nice’ to you? A con man, that’s what you are. Fucking liar,” Seungcheol flicks Soonyoung’s forehead. “We set you up with Jihoon. You were supposed to meet Jihoon and rekindle whatever—or better yet, start something new. At least that’s what Jeonghan and I wanted you two to do. We thought setting up blind dates for the both of you would help ease…the bad feelings, for the lack of better term—but in the end, we kind of figured out that you two specifically knew who you were looking for; even if Jihoon doesn’t remember, I think he reaches out to you unconsciously. He’s fond of ‘his roommate,’ you know. Thankful, even,” Seungcheol sighs “So, Soonyoung, who did you meet?”

“I met Momo—she’s one of my co-dancers back in Japan. Her fiancé lives in Korea, but—” Soonyoung says hurriedly, frowning. “ _Why?_ Why would you do that?”

“I know you know the answer to your own question, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol says. “I did it for Jeonghan, too. And for myself. It sucks pretending to not know anything, when he’s suffering already.”

“You know, I could’ve fallen in love with my roommate and move on,” Soonyoung says. “But turns out, it was Jihoon. I’m always back to square one, aren’t I?”

Seungcheol doesn’t reply to that. Instead, he takes out a crumbling bagel out of his leather jacket’s pocket and hands it to Soonyoung. “You haven’t eaten since you came here. I know it’s tough for you but you have to take care of yourself, too.”

Seungcheol leaves him alone for a while to get coffee for the both of them, telling him to stay there and wait for Jeonghan when he comes back before going off to the canteen. Soonyoung eats the bagel Seungcheol gave him. He was hungrier than he thought he was, so he finishes everything under 5 minutes, wiping his mouth with his sleeve.

He had done a lot of thinking. About his feelings, to be exact. He thought of what Seungcheol said, too. If he could possibly fall in love with his roommate through post-it notes and subtle gestures, unidentified, then maybe he could fall in love again altogether.

But the funny thing is, he already fell in love with Jihoon before. This time, with the ‘new’ him, he could, too. It was always him.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“What happened to your face?”

“This,” Seokmin points to his black eye. “I got this for fucking up my friendship with my best friend by accidentally declaring my love for his ex.”

Yuna sighs and shimmies off her shoes. She places the Chinese takeout on Seokmin’s dinner table. “When?”

“Just last week,” Seokmin mutters, rubbing his bruise, and then wincing after. Yuna takes off her coat, placing it on the rest of the couch.

“You’re an idiot,” Yuna shakes her head.

“Thanks, I gathered that.”

“No, I mean—” Yuna cups his face, staring at his bruises. She sighs, “Seokmin, are you okay?”

Her question wasn’t laced with sarcasm nor malice. She’s worried, her eyebrows furrowed and her lips pursed. Seokmin takes her hands and puts it away, “you don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re my friend. I’m worried,” she says simply. “Have you treated it?”

“Tried to,” Seokmin murmurs. “I don’t get punched every day to know the ropes.”

Yuna knows his apartment well enough to the point where she's acquainted with where he places the garments. She heads to his bedroom then, opening the last drawer adjacent to the bed, taking out an average-sized towel. 

“What are you doing?”

Yuna doesn’t answer verbally, instead, she opens the freezer, wrapping the cloth around the three ice cubes she gathered. She sits in front of him thereafter, gathering the ends of the towel to keep the cubes intact. She pats it on his bruise, the latter jumping from the abrupt coldness seeping through his pores.

“You’re such an idiot,” Yuna says once again. And still, Seokmin is unaffected because, well, it was true. “You, of all people, should know how Soonyoung acts when it comes to Jihoon.”

“I…was there for Jihoon when Soonyoung wasn’t,” Seokmin whispers. “I was mad at him for flying off to Japan just like that, you know? I never knew his reasons, Jihoon definitely doesn’t, too— _god,_ he doesn’t even remember the guy.”

“But here you are,” Yuna points out. “You still care for the both of them.”

“Maybe.”

“You do,” Yuna insists. “You referred Soonyoung to Jihoon’s apartment because you were worried for the both of them.”

“Soonyoung’s mad at me,” Seokmin says, groaning when Yuna pressed too hard. “It’s okay, it was the plan, anyway.”

Yuna stares at him. “You have a lot of pride.”

“I can’t be friends with him—not anymore, anyway. I lied to him about having Jihoon as my ex during high school. It pissed him off, of course,” he sighs as Yuna finishes up. “Looking at him makes me feel guilty. I partly did it for myself.”

“You’re guilty because you’re in love with Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” Seokmin nods. “I mean—he was Soonyoung’s world. It goes the same for Jihoon, too, even if he doesn’t remember. Don’t you see? I’m not, in any way, part of the equation.”

“You can’t help who you fall in love with, Seokmin,” Yuna says carefully. There’s a hint of sadness to it. “It just so happened that you and Soonyoung fell in love with the same person, but I think, despite that, you shouldn’t be sorry for falling in love—” Yuna stands up, “but I think you should be sorry for telling a white lie.”

“Yuna,” Seokmin says with conviction, “I did it on purpose.”

 

 

***

 

 

Soonyoung took a nap on the couch beside Jihoon’s hospital bed a little after Jeonghan arrived, while Seungcheol does the same on the other. When he woke up, the sunlight was already peeking through the curtains and Jeonghan was still up.

“Soonyoung, I may or may not have broken inside your apartment,” Jeonghan says as he fixes Jihoon’s blanket. “To get food and some of his pills.”

“I want to sue you right now.”

“For your information, Jihoon gave me the passcode just in case a situation like this arises,” Jeonghan retorts. “I drank a packet of orange-mango juice, though. Hope you don’t mind.”

Soonyoung glares at him, “that was mine.”

“But that’s not really the case,” Jeonghan clears his throat. He pats Soonyoung’s leg for space, since the blonde is taking up all the space on the couch by lying down. Soonyoung sits up.

“Jihoon is not the same as before, you know,” Jeonghan starts, straight to the point. “He’d stare at his old pictures and say how he felt like he was looking at an entirely different person. Of course, it was inevitable, since memories basically make up a person in a sense. He didn’t know he experienced happiness, didn’t know how loved he was. He had always felt lonely.”

He continues, “Which leads me to my question: did you know he was your roommate all along?”

“No,” Soonyoung answers honestly. “I really didn’t know.”

“That’s why I got this bruise—” he points to this face. “Seokmin was the one who set it up. I got mad and we had a fistfight.”

“I can’t entirely hate Seokmin—Seungcheol and I, I mean,” Jeonghan says quietly. Soonyoung stiffens. “He made Jihoon happy.”

“By what? Lying to him and telling him that he was Jihoon’s boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” Jeonghan nods, surprising Soonyoung a bit, taking him aback. “It was hard for Jihoon. I stayed in his apartment once for a whole week just to look after him because…” Jeonghan releases a deep breath. “It was really hard for him, Soonyoung, especially for the first few weeks after he woke up. He lost everything, lost his memories, lost his identity.”

“But it was still a lie,” Soonyoung’s voice cracks.

“You have to understand why all of this is happening. And you might think it’s wrong, the whole process of it—but you have a chance now, to make all of it right.

“When he told us that he felt less lonely because of his roommate, I was really happy for him. I thought, _who was this guy?_ He was making our Jihoonie smile again,” Jeonghan then looks at him. “Turns out, it was you. _Soonyoung_ , you can try this again. You don’t have to give me an answer if you’ll do it or not now, but I just want you to realize that something like this _means_ something.”

 

 

 

Jihoon had woken up late afternoon, and when he did, his psychologist, Dr. Hong, had asked them to evacuate the room for a while. He was silent all throughout the waiting, while Seungcheol and Jeonghan tried small talk.

“He’ll be fine, don’t worry,” Seungcheol assures him.

He couldn’t explain the feeling, seeing Jihoon so fragile, so weak. He wanted to hold him, to make up for all the mistakes he had done. But he couldn’t. If given the chance, he would be afraid to.

Jisoo comes out after half an hour with a solemn look on his face, clipboard on hand. He stares at Soonyoung briefly, before turning to Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

“What happened?” Jeonghan asked almost immediately, standing up from his seat.

“Jihoon…” Jisoo says slowly but carefully, “he doesn’t want to continue his therapies anymore.”  

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok so now that it was revealed that jihoon has retrograde amnesia; in the previous chapters, it was mentioned that he remembers this and that. for clarification, it's either he actually does (dr. kim mentioned that he can remember only retrieve a few memories) or he doesn't (meaning, he was lied to. again.) - it will be revealed in the future chapters, don't worry!! ;)
> 
> i did not italicize the whole flashback scene (college days) for a reason, too, since it's going to be a recurring thing in the fic (woops, was that a spoiler hehe)
> 
> p.s yuna is choi yuna btw (yuju from gfriend) heh and dr. kim, in my head, is actually kim seokjin from bts!!
> 
> thank y'all for reading ily all <33 <33 pls let me know what u guys think!!! yay!!!!!!


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 'the lake house' spoilers soMEWHERE  
> okay please listen to these songs if u want an auditory effect!!!
> 
> 1) I am love - tearliner feat. yozoh (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=zrB86OgoU10)  
> 2) prayers of a hedgedog - oohyo (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gO9f_FSf4DA)

He heard his Mom.

“ _Jihoon, always remember that you are so loved.”_

 

Technically, he had only known his parents for 2 weeks; after he woke up—all new, rebooted with a different identity, his parents were there to comfort him. After that, he never got to see them again, since they needed to go back to the countryside to work until their nets are full with fish. His big brother tells him that it’s okay, he doesn’t have to worry about them that much. Their parents have been in the fishing industry for so long. They’re at the top of their game. Money isn’t a big problem for them.

That’s one information: they lived by the countryside. Jihoon has no memories of that: doesn’t have any memories of catching fish, or playing outside, getting bruises on his knees from running too fast. When his big brother tells him that he—indeed—did all of those things before, it felt like he was talking about a completely different person—like it was a storytelling time about his life, written by a completely different author.

But even so, despite his memories—or the lack thereof—Jihoon is still familiar of how his Mother sounded like—his Dad too, if he tries hard enough. So when he hears _her_ voice, seconds before he lost consciousness, he might as well sleep for a very long time to hear it again and block out everything that wasn’t his mother’s lullaby.

His therapies can only help him focus on these kinds of thoughts, but unfortunately, it doesn’t get him anywhere near to his old self. Seungcheol and Jeonghan feel it, too—maybe even Seokmin—that he wasn’t ‘Jihoon’ anymore, the Jihoon they loved so dearly before. He pushes those thoughts away, buried somewhere in the back of his messy mind—but it’s a seed that grows, and it will eventually find its way to the very core of his thinking.

So he told Jisoo that he wanted to stop his therapies. He said that maybe, just maybe, he should just give up. Jisoo’s expression flickers, but since it was his patient’s choice, so be it.

“I think it’d be best for me if I don’t dwell on the past anymore. Instead of learning about myself, I feel like I’ve been always learning about someone else entirely.”

Jisoo understands, of course he does. Jihoon suddenly remembers how his lover was cheating on him in daylight and shivers. He keeps his mouth shut.

“Okay, but you still have to take your meds.”

Jisoo says something more after that, but he tones it out, suddenly too tired and too stressed to think. It was a big decision, something his ‘new self’ had done without any accommodation with his past self. It felt so foreign to him because for the first time, he was doing something _for himself_.

“Dr. Hong, can you please tell them I’m going back to sleep? I really need to rest.”

Jisoo nods with a small smile and before he leaves, Jihoon says before it was too late, “and thank you for everything.”

“You’re very much welcome,” Jisoo smiles, widely this time and leaves.

Jihoon goes back to slumber after that. He doesn’t dream of anything.

 

 

Someone was whimpering when he woke up for the second time that day. Fronting the foot of the bed stood a mini refrigerator, and by the mini refrigerator _that someone_ was rubbing his head with a cold drink—an alternate for an ice pack.

It was Soonyoung.

“Do I need to call a doctor now?” he croaks, trying to crack a joke. Soonyoung jumps, bumping his head one the mini refrigerator once again.

“You’re awake,” Soonyoung breathes, now uncaring of his minor injury. Jihoon squints at the bruise on his face.

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. When he tried to sit up, Soonyoung immediately ran to him, helping him to a comfortable position. Soonyoung’s hand felt cold from the air-conditioning unit on full blast.

“Uhm, Seungcheol and Jeonghan hyung left earlier. They just have to take care of something work-related, but don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.”

Jihoon blinks at him and before he could stop his mouth, he asks, “what are you doing here?”

“Excuse me?”

“No, uh…I didn’t mean it in a bad way!” Jihoon explains hurriedly. He doesn’t want Soonyoung to think that he wanted him to leave. “I’m just curious why you’re here.”

“You fainted in front of me,” Soonyoung says, looking anywhere but him, playing with the energy drink, pressing his thumbs against every surface. “I brought you to the hospital and called Jeonghan hyung after.”

“Oh,” Jihoon clears his throat. He silently groans. “I’m sorry, that was really embarrassing.”

“No, don’t be embarrassed, it’s okay,” Soonyoung grins at him. “I guess I have to look out for you from now on. You must be really sensitive to fatigues.”

If only it was just a fatigue. “Yeah, fatigues,” Jihoon nods slowly and forces a smile. “And how will you look out for me when you have three jobs and a bruise on your face?”

“A bruise on the face won’t stop me from moving around,” Soonyoung waddles his fingers, moving it sideways as if to say ‘no.’ “I got it because I tripped on the pavement, by the way, if you’re curious.”

Jihoon laughs, his heartbeat racing. “You’re so dumb—but I meant that in a nice way, okay.”

“I know,” Soonyoung laughs, too, and it sounded really nice. “Am I ugly now? Will this ruin my chances of being a stripper?”

Jihoon extends his arm, reaching out to cup Soonyoung’s face, ignoring the pain that shot up to him. He chuckles despite having a hard time moving. “You look just fine to me.”

Soonyoung stares at him alarmingly. He takes Jihoon’s hand and gently places it back on the bed. “Don’t move too much, you might hurt yourself,” he then jokes, “if you continue being careless like that, I might quit all of my jobs together.”

“Then you wouldn’t have money to pay half the rent. I might just kick you out of the apartment.”

Soonyoung nods seriously, saluting, “Okay, I get it. I promise to work hard then!”

Jihoon laughs once again—and then winces. “Stop making me laugh, my body hurts.”

“Okay, I’ll try not to be funny and charming then—though it’s kind of a hard task for someone like me.”

“Get your head out of your ass, Soonyoung.” Jihoon rolls his eyes. He releases a breath and says after a few seconds of silence, “it’s nice that we’re uhm…not awkward.”

Soonyoung’s eyebrows shot up, pouting. He blinks.

“Are you trying to act cute in front of me?”

“Well, we’re not awkward anymore, right? I can do this freely,” he smiles, showing his pearly whites.

“I would love to hit you right now.”

“Too bad you can’t,” Soonyoung teases and before Jihoon could swat him, the door of the hospital room opens, revealing Seungcheol and Jeonghan.

“Well,” Soonyoung looks back at Jihoon. He stands up from the stool and bows a little, “I’ll get going now.”

“Where are you going?” Jihoon asks.

“I’m going to quit a job,” Soonyoung replies flatly—with reference to what he said earlier. He then turns to Seungcheol, pointing a finger at him. “ _You_ , I need you.”

“Like hell,” Seungcheol replies, scoffing.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan warns.

Seungcheol stares at Jeonghan. “What?”

“Go accompany Soonyoung wherever.”

Seungcheol frowns.

“Pretty please?”

Seungcheol sighs, obliging after a few seconds of staring contest with his fiancé. “Fine.”

“Awesome,” Soonyoung says, dragging Seungcheol by the arm. Once they’ve completely left the room, Jeonghan turns to Jihoon, “sorry, Soonyoung can be…very spontaneous sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” Jihoon says absentmindedly. Jeonghan then proceeds to the mini refrigerator to look for decent food. “I bought you orange juice but it’s gone now. You want me to buy you some?”

“No, it’s fine,” Jihoon waves off. He pauses. “Orange juice must be Soonyoung’s favorite drink.”

Jeonghan hums, sitting by the end of the bed, raising his eyebrows. “Correct. How would you know that?”

“Uhm, I used to buy orange juice packs for myself, but whenever I check the refrigerator, it’s always gone—wait, you know we’re roommates, right?”

Jeonghan nods. “Yeah, Soonyoung told me.”

“How come I never knew of his existence beforehand?”

Jeonghan bites his lower lip and after much thinking, he replies, “you had the chance to.”

“What do you mean?”

“Remember that date you ditched during Christmas Eve?” Jihoon opens and closes his mouth to reason, but alas, nothing comes out. “It’s okay,” Jeonghan assures. “We set you up with Soonyoung. You were supposed to meet him in that blind date. No worries, though, because both of you ditched.”

Jihoon blinks and smiles at the realization of it all. Blind dates are a pain, anyway, and he doesn’t really get anything out of it. _Maybe because the universe wanted us to meet like this._

“I’m glad then.”

 

 

***

 

 

 _College, freshmen year_ :

 

“Hey, Kwon,”

Soonyoung turns around, red cup in hand, rolling his eyes. “What do you want, Lee?”

Soonyoung had never seen Jihoon mad—in fact, he doesn’t see him around that much except for their major business management subject to know his gauge. He heard many things about him, and while all of them indicated that he was a good person, Soonyoung thinks otherwise. It’s a Friday and the least he could do for himself is to unwind, but Lee Jihoon reminds him of the group project they have to present on Monday.

He’s annoyed.

“You haven’t passed your report yet—”

“Listen,” Soonyoung squints down on him. “It’s Friday night and we’re at a party, having a great time—unless you followed me here to get that report. I still don’t have it, by the way.”

Jihoon’s face scrunches and for a moment, Soonyoung felt guilty. Almost.

“You’re unbelievable.”

Jihoon then stomps away, crumpling the paper cup in his hand, the remnants of the beer dripping onto his hand and then onto the floor. That was easy, Soonyoung thought, shrugging.

Suddenly, an arm finds its way around his shoulder, “what is my favorite dongsaeng doing?”

“Oh,” Soonyoung blinks. “Byulyi noona.”

“Who were you checking out?” Byulyi asks excitedly. “Your boyfriend perhaps? The cute, small one?”

Soonyoung scoffs, pointing to the direction where Jihoon walked to. “Him? God, no. He’s not even my type.”

Byulyi chuckles, turning him around, walking towards the ping pong table. “Whatever you say. But for now, partner with me in beer pong. Seokmin stole Wheein from me.”

“I’m being a second option now? I’m hurt.”

“Oh, stop being so dramatic. Come on, let’s kick their asses!”

 

 

 

Soonyoung wakes up to an unfamiliar bed the next morning. He sighs, rolling over, greeted by another warm body. He doesn’t know her, that’s for sure—which was better. It’d be awkward if he did it with a close friend, so as much as possible, quick flings valid for a night are always the better option.

He dresses up quietly, picking up his washed-out shirt on the floor. Just as he was about to put his shoes on, the girl stirs, croaking out, “going already?”

Soonyoung nods sternly. “Yeah.”

“Hm, guys like you must be used to this,” she sits up, covering her front with the blanket. “You can find your way out, right?”

“Thanks for the night,” Soonyoung says, his hand resting on the door knob.

“Shut up, Kwon, you don’t even remember what happened,” the girl says, slumping back on the bed, covering her eyes with a pillow. “Lock the door when you get out.”

Soonyoung shrugs, quietly exiting the studio type dorm. His own apartment isn’t far from this complex, so he walks diligently despite a coming headache. He’ll just ask Jeonghan to cook him hangover soup.

His phone vibrates in his pocket, and coincidentally, it was a text from the person he was just thinking of.

_Meet me @ the bubble tea shop near the uni the one with the flowers on the signboard_

 

 

 

“Got laid?” Jeonghan asks cheekily. “You reek of women’s perfume.”

Soonyoung scoffs, leaning back, stretching his arms. “Whatever.”

“What happened to my sweet baby cousin, huh?” Jeonghan pouts, shaking his head. “He’s so snappy these days. You know what he needs? A lover to keep him on ground.”

“I don’t believe in love.”

“Sure,” Jeonghan replies flatly. He brings out his wallet, whipping out a few bills. “Get me taro. Treat yourself whatever.”

“Now this—” he sniffs the bills. “Is love.”

Soonyoung smirks at a glaring Jeonghan before going off to the counter. He knocks on the wood to catch the attention of the cashier, as the latter acquainted himself with the microwave, heating pies.

“Hello, welcome to— _fuck_.”

Soonyoung pauses, squinting at the person behind the counter. He grins, “Jihoon-ssi, do you believe in fate?”

“If my fate includes meeting a douchebag like you in the middle of my shift then no thanks,” Jihoon mumbles. “What do you want, _sir?_ ”

“Can I say something besides my order?”

“You’re holding up the line.”

Soonyoung looks back. “No one’s even behind me.”

“Get on with it, Kwon,” Jihoon rolls his eyes. Soonyoung notices the prominent bags and tiredness, the croakiness of his voice—unused since he probably spends too much time burying his nose on every book in the library.

“Let me just say you look like shit,” Soonyoung smiles at him. “One taro, one chocolate and one wintermelon please. Large.”

Jihoon sneers at him before writing his name on the three cups. Voice strained due to employee etiquettes, he says, “please wait. Your order will be done in a few.”

“Time is gold, Lee, hurry up.”

Jihoon then proceeds to make the drinks. While he does, Soonyoung rests his elbows on the counter, chin on his palm. He asks, “what were you doing in the party yesterday? Didn’t peg you as the type.”

“Because you were there,” Jihoon says without holding back. Soonyoung’s heart jumped. “I heard you’ll be there, so I went. You needed to pass your report.”

Soonyoung releases a breath. “I’ll pass it later.”

“No, it’s fine,” Jihoon mumbles. “I’m done with it. I’ll send the powerpoint presentation to your email later. I hope you at least study it.”

Soonyoung nods, feeling slightly guilty for not being able to contribute anything. Before he could say more, Jihoon cuts him off, placing the finished bubble teas in front of him, “you don’t have to apologize. There’s no point.”

Soonyoung takes three straws from the holder. He’s a step ahead. “Jihoon, what’s your favorite bubble tea flavor?”

Jihoon glares at him.

“You really despise me, huh?” Soonyoung chuckles. “Don’t worry, I feel the same way—but answer my question.”

“Taro,” Jihoon replies shortly.

Soonyoung takes the chocolate and wintermelon. “Now that drink is yours—” he says, referring to the taro. “I might be a douchebag but I’m not entirely heartless. You look like shit and you probably haven’t consumed anything yet so…drink happily.”

He doesn’t give Jihoon the chance to reply as he walked away already, casually sitting back to his table. He feels slightly satisfied, but at the same time something was nagging him. Jeonghan stares at him weirdly.

“I asked for taro.”

Soonyoung sips from the chocolate bubble tea. “I thought you said wintermelon.”

“You left my drink to Jihoon.”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows. “That wasn’t your drink,” he frowns. “And how did you know Jihoon?”

“He’s Seungcheol’s best friend.”

Soonyoung’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“Yes way,” Jeonghan takes the wintermelon drink. “Jihoon is really nice and sweet. He can come off as very intimidating sometimes, but trust me he’s a real’ sweetheart.”

“Ah, you’re getting close to your crush’s friends. Nice move.”

“Hey! I genuinely want to be friends with Jihoon, not just because my crush is his best friend,” he sips the bubble tea, wiping his lips. “Anyway, do you like him that much that you have to give up your favorite cousin’s favorite drink?”

“No, I don’t like him at all. It was compensation. I didn’t contribute anything for our report on Monday.”

“You fucking douchebag.”

Soonyoung smirks, lifting the cup. Jihoon didn’t write his name. “As what this cup says.”

_To: Douchebag_

Before he leaves the shop and had Jeonghan promise to cook him hangover soup, his gaze shifts to the counter. Jihoon wasn’t by the cash register. Instead he was sitting by the far corner, trying to hide, sipping on the taro bubble tea.

 

 

 

 

 

“Why are you sitting beside me?”

“We’re groupmates,” Soonyoung says, placing his books on the table. “You didn’t complain when the other two sat behind you.”

Jihoon sighs. “Here’s your script. Please study it before the teacher comes in.”

Soonyoung looks back to his other groupmates who were already furiously memorizing the scripts Jihoon gave them. Soonyoung frowns.

“Why the script?” Soonyoung asks, flipping through the pages. His name was highlighted in yellow.

“No one passed a single report, so the least you could all do was to memorize what’s written there,” Jihoon says, not looking at him, making last minute notes on his report.

“I think you should stop looking down on me,” Soonyoung says, his voice laced with malice. There’s a sudden rush of unprecedented anger coursing through his veins.   

“What the fuck do you mean by that?” Jihoon asks, his voice loud, enough to draw attention from other students. His eyes are red. Before Soonyoung could reply, their professor entered, shouting, “ _okay, class! Get ready. Let’s start with group 1!”_

 

 

***

 

“Ah, I remember that. You two wanted to rip each other’s head off at every given chance,” Seungcheol laughs, tapping on the steering wheel as he waits for the green light. “Jihoon used to rant about how much he wants to throw you off a cliff, but then suddenly, you two started eating meals together. He’d then rather jump with you off a cliff.”

Soonyoung chuckles, holding the two taro bubble teas on his lap in place. “The professor said, ‘if you plan on freeloading, then don’t get caught.’ During the presentation, only Jihoon was answering. The professor noticed. I kept quiet until I saw him close to tears.” 

“What did you do then?”

“I answered the professor’s questions,” Soonyoung says. “I got mad at him for underestimating me—but then after an extensive realization, I was only frustrated because he didn’t trust me. I understood, though. We weren’t exactly friends. In other words, I still did my report even if he said he was done with the powerpoint. I reviewed the other topics assigned to our other groupmates, too. In the end, we got a C.”

“He still got upset about that, though.”

“Yeah. The next day, I saw him eating alone. So I went and ate with him,” Soonyoung sighs fondly at the memory. If a Deus Ex Machina happens, and a god offered him to go back time, he’d gladly accept it. “We ate a lot together after that, hung out when our schedules allowed us to. One day, we were eating at a rundown fast food restaurant and I asked him to go back with me in the uni to retrieve my History book…it was raining. When we held hands while running all the way back to the campus, that was the moment I realized how much I liked him.”

Seungcheol hums, now driving at an average pace. After a few minutes of reflective silence, he asks, “where are we going anyway?”

“To the radio station,” Soonyoung replies.

“So you only needed me to drive you to a boba shop and to your work?”

“You know the saying, ‘you win something, you lose something’?” Soonyoung asks. “I believe in it, apparently. Sad thing about life is that you can’t have everything.”

“You’re so philosophical these days,” Seungcheol comments.

“I’ve done a lot of thinking,” Soonyoung ignores his comment. “Jeonghan hyung asked me if I want to start again. If I quit my job here at the radio station, then I’d have the opportunity to spend time with him.”

He needn’t elaborate further though, because Seungcheol throws him an understanding look. The latter takes off his seatbelt and attacks Soonyoung with a hug. “I’m so proud of you.”

Soonyoung could joke about the moment, Seungcheol hugging him. He was taken aback, but he thought of the pain Seungcheol and Jeonghan went through because of him. Him telling Seungcheol to lie to Jihoon, him making Jeonghan cry from his emails about his time in Japan.

He suddenly cries for real then, hiccupping to find air, staining Seungcheol’s sleeves with tears. It’s as if a dam broke; it’s the kind of cry where his face scrunches up, the type to get called for looking unpleasant. He calls Seungcheol ‘hyung’ for the first time in years, a habit he forgot to pick up from their informality. “ _Hyung_ , I’m sorry.”

“Hey,” Seungcheol chuckles, joking, “I might cry, too, if you continue to call me that. Believe it or not, I got used to you being a disrespectful little shit.”

“I’m r-really sorry,” Soonyoung couldn’t find anything to say. He turns incoherent. “I’m s-sorry for making you lie, for having you to cover up the mistakes I did. I know it h-hurt you and J-jeonghan hyung.”

“You kid,” Seungcheol says, pulling away, smiling. He doesn’t say anything after that except to tease him for crying like a baby. Even so, he wasn’t offended, since he knew that was Seungcheol’s way to lift the mood.

For the first time in his life, he was glad of the traffic.

 

 

 

He filed his resignation letter the day after he and Seokmin fought. Gladly, the director understood his wishes, so he was granted to leave earlier than the given time frame of duty.

He comes back to Seungcheol’s car as a man with only two jobs supporting him. He doesn’t know what to say to Seungkwan about his resignation, but he thought that he’d already saw it coming. On his behalf, Seungkwan would bid his goodbye to the audience.

They drive back to the hospital quietly, and when they arrived, Jeonghan and Jihoon were watching a movie. “Where did you guys go?”

“The road to character development,” Seungcheol jokes, handing Jeonghan the taro bobas. “Our Soonyoungie cried like a baby. I should’ve filmed it.”

Soonyoung clenches his jaw, glaring at Seungcheol. “I’m going to rip your hea—”

Seungcheol inclines his head to Jihoon, who stared at him curiously, effectively shutting Soonyoung up.

“The traffic made me cry.”

Jihoon laughs while Jeonghan frowns at him.

“You got taro? It’s my favorite,” Jihoon says after a while, sticking the straw. “Anyway, does someone die in this movie?”

Seungcheol cackles, clapping his hand. “Jihoon, this was the movie I was talking about. The leads are like you and Soonyoung! You see, they live two years apart, have never met, and lives in the same house.”

“Shut up.” Jihoon says. “I got the plot down already.”

“The guy dies because of a car accident but comes back to life,” Soonyoung spoils flatly, opening the bag of chips.

Jihoon stares at him murderously. “I haven’t watched this movie yet.”

“ _What?”_

“This is the first time I’m watching this movie,” Jihoon says, throwing a pillow at him.

There was silence. He slipped.

“Soonyoungie, I’m disappointed in you,” Jeonghan jokes, tsk-ing, shaking his head. “Spoilers are the worst.”

Soonyoung bites his tongue. _This was the first movie we watched together._

 

 

***

 

 

“Hyung, you’re back!”

Seungcheol interrupts the small reunion, placing a hand on Jihoon’s shoulder. “Unfortunately, this workaholic is very persistent.”

“Money makes the world go round,” Jihoon replies, brushing off his best friend’s hand. “Anyway, Seungkwan, can you please send me the marketing report this afternoon?”

“Of course!” Seungkwan chirps, nodding excitedly. He then whispers, “Mingyu, you heard him.”

“I’m not even in your department,” Mingyu protests loudly. “This is unfair. Sir!”

“Well,” Seungcheol shrugs. “You are an intern.”

Seungkwan laughs, banging his hand on the table. They don’t flinch. It’s a recurring thing during lunch time. They anticipate the boisterous action fondly.

“Anyway, all of you live happily. I have a meeting to attend.”

“Okay, have fun with Mr. Im,” Jihoon says, waving goodbye.

“Don’t work too much!”

When Seungcheol was out of sight already, Seungkwan tells him, “oh, someone left a package for you, hyung! It was from a Doctor, I think. Doctor Hong if I’m not mistaken.”

Jihoon blinks at Seungkwan, hoping to find a flicker in his expression, perhaps a sense of acknowledgement of the man he just mentioned—but there was nothing. He clears his throat. “Yeah, uh, thanks. I’ll pick it up later.”

 

 

 

It was a very mundane day until a man named Kwon Soonyoung makes it otherwise. Properly, for the first time in his life, he doesn’t come home to an empty apartment. He comes home to Soonyoung cooking.

“What are you cooking?”

“ _AH!”_ Soonyoung jumps, clutching his chest. “Jeez, you scared me. Oh my god.”

“You’re cooking ramyun?” Jihoon takes off his coat and places it on the breakfast counter. He nudges Soonyoung away with his waist, taking the chopsticks from him. “You’re just cooking ramyun and you’re wearing an apron.”

“Wearing an apron makes me feel professional. I should join Master Chef Korea.”

Jihoon scrunches his face. “First time I came home to you and you’re already cracking up jokes. Go find yourself another job.”

“No, I’d rather stare at you.”

Jihoon blushes. “Flirting won’t get you anywhere.”

“Oh, really? The last time I flirted with you, we ended up on the same bed.”

“I will spit on your ramyun,” Jihoon says seriously but with no malice. In fact, he’s amused, as if all the stress from his bygone years and now flushed down the drain. “But go get us some bowls first.”

Soonyoung grins, “as you wish.”

 

 ***

 

Voice message (1)

_Jihoonie, my precious brother-in-law, I hope you’re doing fine. Your brother is worried for you and so am I. We heard you got admitted to the hospital? I’m going to visit you in your apartment next week. I love you!_

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i hope yall enjoyed the chapter!! comments and kudos are very much appreciated!!


	6. Chapter 6

Timing is the real enemy. In explicit terms: a bitch.

Soonyoung may not be a morning person but he is a man of schedule—so when the water from the shower head comes into an abrupt halt, he tastes the leftover of it, scratches his eyes from the prick, and rethinks his life choices.

On a positive note, he hasn’t shampooed his hair yet—but the substance itself rests on his palm. He thinks of ditching the bath altogether, but he’s going to meet his kids and their parents in the taekwondo competition today. Impressions are important.

He grabs a towel, diligently wrapping it around his waist. He dries his feet with the mat and steps out of his bathroom, gripping the ends of the cloth together. Slowly, he exits his bedroom, steps careful and quiet. He’s glad his room was only a foot away from the kitchen proper. He plans to get two pitchers of water as an alternative source of bathing.

_“Oh my god!”_

 What luck.

Naked, dripping, and only a piece of towel covering his privates, Soonyoung gulps in embarrassment—but soon it turns into smugness as Jihoon stares at him, eyes wide, his body force passed onto the spatula he gripped.

A minute must’ve passed—both weren’t so sure—but Soonyoung’s abs shined (at least in Jihoon’s vision), and the scramble egg on the pan started to burn. Jihoon blinks. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Like what you see?” Soonyoung smirks, leaning back. He’s a good, modest guy so he doesn’t flex. Everything must be natural.

“Did you—” Jihoon gulps. “Jerk off?”

“Wait what?”

“Your hand…”

Soonyoung relelases a deep breath. He lifts his said hand, rubbing his fingers against his palm. “Shampoo,” he replies simply. “Uh, the water stopped running.”

“Are you usually up this early?”

“Nope,” Soonyoung shakes his head, taking a step closer, causing Jihoon to walk backwards until his back thumps against the counter. He and Soonyoung are an inch apart now. “I have to meet with overzealous parents today. I need to make a good impression,” Soonyoung leans closer, his breath fanning his ear. He tilts his head, his arm brushing over the smaller’s elbow. Jihoon squeezes his eyes shut until he hears a click. “The eggs are burnt,” Soonyoung whispers. He had turned off the stove.

Jihoon pushes him away and faces the stove, patting his spatula on the eggs. “Why are you here?”

Soonyoung chuckles. “I need water.”

“You can take a bath on my bathroom,” Jihoon offers, transferring the eggs to a serving plate. “My water’s pretty strong.”

“Oh okay,” Soonyoung re-grips his towel. “Lead the way.”

Jihoon puts down the plate on the dining table, not even bothering to look at Soonyoung. He pushes past him, crossing the living room to get to his room. Soonyoung follows diligently but immediately stops before the red line, his wet, bare feet on the edge of the tape. Jihoon turns around and says, “it’s okay. You can pass.”

Soonyoung stares at him and smiles, “ah, you must be getting fond of me.”

Jihoon glares at him. “Don’t think of this as anything. This is an emergency. Besides I already saw your room.”

“Huh?” Soonyoung follows him to the bathroom. There isn’t much to see inside Jihoon’s room. Just the normal necessities—a bed, a study table and a laptop. “When did you see my room, hm?”

“When we slept together during New Year.”

Soonyoung chokes. “Wow, you’re straightforward.”

“What can I do?” Jihoon fumbles with the shower controls. “It already happened.”

Just before the water can run from the shower head, Soonyoung pulls Jihoon away, preventing him and his clothes from getting wet. Soonyoung whispers, “you know if you want to save water, we can always just take a bath together.”

Jihoon turns around, staring at his chest, at his collarbones, and then finally up to his face. Soonyoung feels a sense of triumph as he sees Jihoon’s cheeks turn red. The water is not as strong as it should be, but it’s enough for him to take a fulfilling bath, to get rid of the shampoo on his palm—but he couldn’t care less for now because he and Jihoon’s approximate distance is something to die for, to mull over for the next hours or so—his taekwondo students’ competition be damned. 

“I already took a bath,” Jihoon replies, his voice small. Before Soonyoung could say anything more, Jihoon says in a rush, “Don’t use the vanilla shampoo, okay? Bye.”

And with that he rushes out, leaving Soonyoung alone with the sound of banging doors.

 

 

“What’s that package on the counter?”

Jihoon looks up from his plate. “Medicine. For my fatigues.”

“Ah,” Soonyoung nods, taking the last bite of egg. “Anyway, let’s go out tonight.”

Jihoon raises his eyebrows. “Your treat?”

The wallet in his taekwondo pants screams ‘no.’ But Jihoon stares at him expectantly that he had to say ‘yes’—which, in return, made Jihoon laugh, pointing his chopsticks at him. “I was just joking. You treated me last time. It’s my turn now.”

Them spending dinners together are on its way to being a ritual ever since last week, since Jihoon had stated that they can’t just have ramyun and kimchi every night. They opt to treat themselves to a nice restaurant now, which is a good thing, because before, both were so busy with their jobs that they didn’t have time to eat real food. This is a good practice.

“I was going to make a run when they give us the bill anyway,” Soonyoung says, finishing his iced tea. “But of course, how could I leave someone as pretty as you? I might just wait in front of the restaurant.”

“And after I get out of the restaurant, I will kick you,” Jihoon nods, smiling with his lips closed. “Great date idea?”

“Of course. I’ll forget my 5th dan title and let you kick me. All for the sake of a successful date.”

Jihoon playfully slaps him, then placing the plates and utensils they used in the sink. “Let’s leave now. You and I might get late for our own jobs. You won’t go to the dance studio today?”

“I won’t,” Soonyoung picks up his bag, readjusting the shoulder strap. “I have a competition to oversee the whole day, but I promise to be there on time to pick you up.”

“If I’m not down there by 7, you can go to my office and wait, okay?”

“Okay,” Soonyoung smiles. “The gymnasium I’m going to is on the way to your work, so I guess we’re taking the same train.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

_College, freshman year:_

“You wait here,” Soonyoung says, taking off his bomber jacket. He wraps it around Jihoon’s slightly shivering figure. The rain adds cold to the temperature, droplets fogging the entirety of the area. "I'll just get my History book real' quick."

“Are you an idiot?” Jihoon shouts over the sound of rain clacking against the canopy they stayed under. “I’m coming with you.”

“No, you’ll get sick. You’re shivering so hard already.”

“What about you? You’re only wearing a turtleneck.”

“I’ll be fine. I have a strong immune system,” Soonyoung boasts, grinning. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll come back to you.”

“No, wait—” Jihoon suddenly pulls him close when he sees lightning. He buries his face on Soonyoung’s chest, gripping the ends of his turtleneck sweatshirt.

Soonyoung hopes Jihoon wouldn’t be able to feel the fast beating of his heart. It will give out too much.

He lowers his head, resting his cheek against Jihoon’s head, his hand snaking its way around the smaller’s waist. The thunder comes, making Jihoon flinch despite the anticipation.  

“You can’t leave me here,” Jihoon whispers, pulling away, holding Soonyoung’s hand.

After that, everything falls into slow motion. It was almost like a movie. Soonyoung couldn’t care less about the puddles that damaged his shoes—he waded through the rain like he was about to go to war, except the one he goes home to held his hand in the battlefield. Jihoon smiles and Soonyoung learns that not all angels can fly.

 

***

 

“Okay, we’re here,” Jihoon says, stopping in front of Soonyoung. “Good luck with overseeing the competition. I hope your kids win.”

“Good luck to you, too,” Soonyoung replies. “Where’s my goodbye kiss?”

“Who are you to deserve my goodbye kiss?”

“Your dashing 5th dan, dancer roommate who’s willing to get kicked by the ever so lovely Jihoon,” Soonyoung leans in, pouting his lips. Jihoon looks around, hoping his co-workers won’t see him. He doesn’t want to endure a plethora of teasing, much more if it will come from his dongsaengs. They have a knack of not letting him live his life properly if he makes one single typo in a text, what more if they see _this?_

But Soonyoung’s lips looked quite tempting, and it’d be a shame if he passes this kind of opportunity. He’s a businessman by definition and experience, so he makes a deal: “I’ll only give you a kiss if all of your kids win gold.”

Soonyoung topples a little, losing balance as Jihoon backs away, teasing him. Soonyoung’s kissy pout turns into a sad one. “You promise? I’m going to scold them extra harder today.”

“Don’t give the kids a hard time,” Jihoon warns. “Off you go.”

“Okay but before that let’s seal the deal,” Soonyoung offers his hand for a shake. When their hands touched, Soonyoung pulls him and kisses his cheek.

Jihoon’s face heats up. “You’re a cheater.”

“Bye bye!”

“Be safe on the way!” Jihoon shouts as Soonyoung walks away, waving at him. Jihoon clutches his chest, hitting it when Soonyoung was out of sight already. Maybe it’d stop his chest from beating any faster.

“Look at the PDA,” Seungcheol says, appearing out of nowhere. “Ah, young love. They grow up so fast.”

Jihoon’s mood shifts, glaring as Seungcheol fake cries. “Go away.”

They enter the building together, accepts the greeting of the employees and rides the air-conditioned VIP elevator. “And you know,” Jihoon adds. “Of all the memories I could remember—I remember you and Jeonghan starting an orgy, and you and Jeonghan announcing your engagement, so you have no right to complain when I do PDA with someone else.”

“That’s tough,” Seungcheol nods, mocking empathy. “So you plan on doing more PDA with Soonyoung? Do you like him that much?”

Jihoon turns quiet. “No, I don’t…”

Seungcheol gasps, pointing an accusing finger. “You don’t like him? Weren’t you two just flirting with each other in front of the company building? I stood around long enough to see everything.”

Jihoon kicks his calves—just in time the elevator door opens. Seungcheol whimpers, “you’re only nice to Soonyoung!”

“That’s because he’s cute and funny,” Jihoon says, passing by a series of cubicles before slamming the door of his office. Seungcheol, who trailed behind him, sighs before yelling, “you have a meeting later!”

_“I know!”_

“Are you still thinking about the kiss Soonyoung left you!” Seungcheol teases.

“Why do you care?” Jihoon shouts, his voice muffled, but clear enough to decipher. “Fuck you!”

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

 

“Everyone _attention!_ _Bow!_ ” Soonyoung shouts. After bowing, the little kids huff their chests, hands on their side, staring straight ahead. “What’s our goal for today?”

“A gold medal!”

“Very good,” Soonyoung nods. “Remember to always be alert. If we all get a gold medal, everyone will be happy. You see, a cute guy about this height—” he gestures to his lips. “Is willing to give me kiss if you all win gold. And if that happens, I’m willing to lessen the seconds of splits. Understood?”

“Yes, master!”

“Okay go on and practice. Form 1 for now.”

“You know before,” Byulyi appears, holding a half-filled bottle of water. “You weren’t so intent on pushing the kids, white-belters at that, in getting a gold medal. What changed?”

“If they all get a gold medal, all the parents—” he smiles at them, Byulyi following. “Will be happy. Happy parents will enroll their happy children again to our school, and if they enroll to our school, we will be happy, too.”

“What do you take me for?” Byulyi elbows him once they’ve turned away from the parents.

“You know this is why I worked hard to get abs. It’s kind of like a shield now. From you, especially.”

“Anyway,” Byulyi rolls her eyes, wiping her sweat with the towel rested on her shoulder. “You’re in a very great mood today. What happened? Got laid?”

“Don’t be surprised if I tell you,” Soonyoung lowly murmurs, crossing his arms. Byulyi is someone he trusts. Moreover, she gives pretty refreshing advices—only proven after he doesn’t follow it and learns life lessons the hard way.

“What is it?”

“Remember the roommate I told you about?” Soonyoung watches the kids do another round of form 1. “Turns out, it was…”

“It was?”

Soonyoung pauses. “It was Jihoon.”

Byulyi’s jaws slack open. “Lee Jihoon? Lee Jihoon, the one you were head over heels for during college? Lee Jihoon, the one you courted like crazy and wouldn’t shut up about every party? Lee Jihoon, the one yo—”

“Yes, that Lee Jihoon,” he looks around and covers Byulyi’s mouth. “Will you please quiet down.”

Byulyi licks Soonyoung’s palm, the latter instinctively retracting his hand away, wiping the saliva on his pants. “Gross—”

“Lee Jihoon, your ex-boyfriend? Lee Jihoon, the one who has amnesia?” Byulyi’s expression turns serious, worried even. “Kwon Soonyoung, are you crazy? If you two get back together again, how are you going to tell him you two had a past?”

Soonyoung purses his lips. He thought about that already—in fact, it’s what consumed his mind every night. He avoids it as much as possible though, but despite the resolution, he knows that someday he has to deal with it primarily. For now, he has to focus on his budding friendship with Jihoon. It’s rekindling for him, but for the other, it’s a start. Revealing such a past—and how because of that, lies became a norm in his life—would be nothing but detrimental to the both of them. And it makes him think, makes him ponder: will Jihoon still love him if he finds out about their past? Or will he do the complete opposite?

“I’ll cross the bridge when I get there,” Soonyoung finally says.

“Well, I hope you know what you’re doing,” Byulyi replies, her voice soft. “And I hope backing out is not one of them,” she punches Soonyoung’s shoulder. “And I hope you’ll be happy. I’m just worried for you.”

Soonyoung taps the hand that rested on his shoulder, assuring Byulyi that he’s going to be fine, that somehow, he knows what he’s doing. If he believes he does, maybe he really will be. The placebo effect, you may call it. His top priority is making Jihoon happy in correlation with making up for all the mistakes he had done. Somehow, the idea of it all sounds flawed and selfish—but it took years for Soonyoung to come up with such a solution. And, like every structure of a plan, some things usually don’t go the way it supposed to be—fate and nature going against the flow. He hopes it’ll happen to him, because deep down, he knows that falling in love isn’t a plan. Falling in love is the most spontaneous thing to ever grace the universe.

“Oh holy shit,” Byulyi covers her face, crouching. Her eyes peek in between her fingers. “Why is she here?”

Soonyoung turns to his right, just about Yongsun—Byulyi’s girlfriend—spots them. She waves at them, shades in hand, sporting an expensive-looking sundress and purse. “Yongsun noona!” Soonyoung calls, ignoring Byulyi’s hits. “Byulyi noona is over here!”

“Hey! Why are you hiding from me?” Yongsun asks loudly, crossing her arms. Soonyoung chuckles, stepping away. “What if I couldn’t find you? It’s a good thing our Soonyoungie here is kind. I’ll treat you steak tonight. You want?”

“No thanks, I have a date,” Soonyoung shakes his head. “You and Byulyi noona have fun. I’ll get going now.”

He leaves Byulyi with a scolding girlfriend then, him padding through groups of white belters until he finds his own students under the care of the other instructor, Chanmi. He gives them a 5-minute break before practicing for form 2. A little kid taps him on the hip, “Master!”

“Yes, Seungwoo?”

“I’m afraid I won’t be able to win a gold medal,” he points to his other competitors. “The kids in my age are way bigger than me. I’m sorry in advance, master!”

Soonyoung kneels down, eye-to-eye with the teary kid. “Why are you already giving up, hm? You see, the judges are only going to compare which form is better. You’re not going to fight anyone unless you’re already a yellow belt.”

“But still, I am very nervous, master!”

“Well, Seungwoo, your form is really good, so you don’t have anything to worry about! Just do your best, okay? I believe in you.”

Seungwoo nods. Soonyoung pinches his cheeks. “Fighting!”

 

 

 

In the end though, not all of them got a gold medal, but it was okay. Soonyoung saw them work hard. It was enough for his heart to swell. He changed into a different set of clothes, spraying himself with perfume before meeting with the parents again, who thanked them with a whole heart. When he spots little Seungwoo, he gives him a thumbs up, assuring him that this is not the end of his long-running taekwondo career, that is, if his 6-year old mind decides to continue it.

“Don’t worry, I believe you’ll get a gold medal next time, because in my opinion, your form 1 was better,” Soonyoung ruffles his hair.

“But what about that kiss you were talking about, master?” the other kids gathered around him now, pushing each other for their favorite instructor’s attention.

“Master has a boyfriend!” the kids started to coo, laughing amongst themselves.

“Ah, you rascals—”

“ _You have a boyfriend?”_

Soonyoung immediately stands up, his tongue suddenly twisting. His heart leaps, and soon, a smile creeps its way to his mouth. Jihoon is standing before him, under the profound setting of the sun. He looks especially ethereal, the last rays of the sun going against his hair, turning it into a soft, orange blaze.

“No, I don’t have a boyfriend,” Soonyoung says. He leans closer, whispering, “but I think they were talking about you.”

“Is that so?” Jihoon raises his eyebrows. He gives the kids a smile and a small wave. “They’re really cute.”

“Excuse me!” one of them shouts. “Are you Master Soonyoung’s boyfriend?”

“Hm?” Jihoon grins. “Why are you asking?”

“Uhm, not all of us got a gold medal,” Seungwoo says, fidgeting his silver medal. “But we worked hard! And Master Soonyoung worked hard, too!” they bow in 90 degrees. “Please still give him a kiss!”

“Even if I do give him a kiss, you all still won’t see it,” he kneels down and whispers, “but I promise I’ll give him one since you all worked hard.”

“Thank you, sir!”

Jihoon stands up, greeted by Soonyoung’s frown. “What did you say to them?”

“Nothing,” Jihoon shrugs, leaning closer to him. “Let’s go?”

“Okay kids, all of you, go run to your parents now. See you all next meeting!”

“Yes, master!”

After watching the kids scramble, Soonyoung turns to Jihoon. “What brought you here? I thought I was going to pick you up.”

“Well,” Jihoon fixes the collar of Soonyoung’s coat. “My meetings finished earlier than expected, so I asked people where was the nearest gymnasium in the area, so here I am,” he fumbles with the insides of his pockets. “I got coupons from a restaurant near here.”

Soonyoung chuckles, unable to keep his lips to form a straight line. He stares at Jihoon, feeling elated, as if all the stress in the world disappeared. He keeps him close, offering his arm. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”

 

 

“Oh my god,” Yongsun mutters, dropping the fighting gears Byulyi had told her to hold. “Is that Lee Jihoon?”

Byulyi groans, struggling with the fighting gear sets. She shifts her gaze to where Yongsun was looking and nods. Soonyoung and Jihoon arms are linked, them smiling at each other as they walk down the cobbled road. “Yeah.”

“They’ve been together since college, right? They’re staying strong,” Yongsun says, picking up the sets once again. “Well, they seem like the type.”

Byulyi holds Yongsun’s hand to prevent her from tripping on her heels. “It’s more complicated than you think,” she sighs. “But I hope they’re happy.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Ah, I’m so full,” Jihoon throws himself on the couch. Soonyoung takes off his coat, hanging it by the rack.

He sits beside him, giving the smaller’s hips a light tap. “Hey, don’t lie down. Your stomach might hurt.”

Jihoon offers his hands. Soonyoung takes it, pulling him into a sitting position. Jihoon then cups his jaw and kisses him full on the lips. “Thank you for tonight.”

Soonyoung brushes Jihoon’s bangs off with his finger. “I should be the one thanking you. It was your treat.”

Jihoon nods, laughing slightly. “Yeah…” he moves closer. “And I’m really happy because you finally wore my Christmas gift for you.”

Soonyoung shows off the watch. He just opened the gift yesterday. “I thought it was about time to use it. Thank you. I'll wear it often.”

Jihoon presses their lips once again, but this time, Soonyoung doesn’t stay still. He caresses Jihoon’s cheek, kissing back, their lips moving into a slow rhythm.

“What was that for?” Soonyoung asks, pulling away, panting slightly.

“I don’t know. I just wanted to kiss you.”

“We’ve only known each other for a month,” Soonyoung says, his tone laced with that of a tease. “Aren’t we going too fast?”

“Technically, almost a year,” Jihoon corrects. He points his head to the refrigerator. “Post-its, remember?”

_Truthfully, more than a year. Way beyond a hand can count._

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods. “Post-its.”

 

 

***

 

 

From: Cheol

_Don’t come home. Go to our place instead. We’ve prepared the guest room already._

 

The next days are infinitely better for Soonyoung. He and Jihoon fall into a harmonious domestic and natural dynamic—and from there, he learns a bit about the ‘new’ Jihoon. For example, he learns that this Jihoon is more open than the Jihoon before, but both are just as organized about their working habits. Although he couldn’t help but compare, he doesn’t exactly like doing it. It felt as if he was setting two different people in a venn diagram.

He receives Seungcheol’s text after his all-day duty in the dance studio, as per request from Junhui and Minghao, who entrusted the care of their dance studio to Soonyoung for they’ll be out the whole day because of their anniversary celebration. He securely locks the dance studio before leaving, pocketing his phone after texting a Seungcheol a quick ‘why’? Nothing had happened to Jihoon, right?

Seungcheol calls him.

“ _Where are you?”_

“In the dance studio.”

_“Go to our place. You wouldn’t want to go home to your apartment.”_

“But I promised Jihoon we’d have dinner together,” Soonyoung says, stopping by the edge of the street, waiting for a cab. “What happened?”

He hears Seungcheol take a deep breath on the other end of the line. “ _Soonyoung, his brother-in-law is there.”_

Soonyoung stills, pauses and re-grips his phone as it almost fell from shock. He gulps, his mind running to many places, almost missing the cab that honked in front of him. He clears his throat, opening the door. He tells Seungcheol, “I’m on my way there now. Bye.”

 

 

***

 

“Hyung, you didn’t tell me you were coming.”

Jimin takes a sip of the hot chocolate Jihoon prepared for him, staring at the polaroids attached to his fridge. “I left you a voice message last week. It’s not my fault you didn’t hear it.”

“Wow,” Jihoon chuckles, shaking his head. “It’s a good thing I missed you, hyung.”

Jimin sits opposite him. “You must be wondering why I’m here.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon nods.

“It’s your brother’s fault. Married life is so hard,” he sighs, leaning back. “But I do love that rascal. It’s just—” he fans himself. “I think I just need some space? As of now, he’s looking everywhere for me, but I turned off my phone so he couldn’t contact me.”

“Is this about the adopting thing?” Jihoon questions and then adds, “Yoongi hyung is really nice, though. I can tell how much he loves you.”

“I know,” Jimin nods truthfully. “But enough about me. How about you? Found a new beau?”

Jihoon smiles.

“Ah! You’re smiling!” Jimin laughs, clapping his hands together as if it was eureka. “What’s his name?”

“Uh, he’s not exactly my beau. We’re not together, but I think I kind of like him,” Jihoon confesses, grinning. “He’s my roommate. He’s nice enough that I want you to meet him.”

“Roommate?” Jimin raises his eyebrows, looking around. “You’ve been sharing this place with someone? Well, it’s pretty big for only one person.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon says. He suddenly feels his phone vibrate in his pocket. “Wait a minute.”

 

From: Soonyoung

_I won’t be home for tonight. Something came up. I’m sorry._

Jihoon hides his disappointment. He clears his throat and texts back, ‘ _it’s okay. Be safe. I hope you ate well.’_

“Who’s that?”

“My roommate,” Jihoon turns off his phone and pockets it. “He’s not coming home for tonight. He's busy with work, I think.”

“But what’s his name?” Jimin asks once again, curiosity swimming in his eyes.

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Jihoon answers. He notices the change in Jimin’s expression and wonders why. “Is there something wrong?”

“Kwon Soonyoung,” Jimin repeats, his voice distant.

“He’s tall, blonde, and knows how to dance and do taekwondo,” Jihoon says. He then jokes, “he’s really nice but why do you look you want to kill him or something? I don’t want to die single, hyung.”

Jimin blinks at him, his tone wary. “Jihoonie, you really don’t remember something?”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would like to thank the cheese in the trap ost and descendants of the sun ost for pulling me through!!!  
> hehe comments and kudos are very much appreciated y e y  
> ++ war flashbacks on my taekwondo days


	7. Chapter 7

_College, Sophomore year_

 

“Hey, my brother is here,” Jihoon whispers, his hand against the wall for support, careful not to scrape the paint. He had too many shots tonight, lost his luck and skills in beer pong along with Byulyi. Downing in a whole pitcher of beer before going off to a handmade Vikings-like obstacle wasn’t a good idea either. Well, it was—in other terms, that is—for charity and yearbook display. He wonders how he’s home though, how he’s in Jihoon’s arms.

 “Ooh,” Soonyoung squeals. He covers his chest, stomping his feet. “Are you going to do really nasty stuff to me? Ah, I’m so excited. Don’t worry, I’ll take—” he throws his arms around Jihoon’s figure, hogging him. “Care of you. Please take off your shirt!”

Jihoon kicks his shin, dragging him to sit on the floor, ignoring the soft whimpers that came from Soonyoung’s mouth. The hallway was narrow, occupied with shoe racks and umbrellas, enclosed by a door on the end. It’s a topnotch choice for an apartment, especially when there’s a guest by the dining room and your boyfriend is shit-ass drunk. “Soonyoung, you knew they were going to visit today and yet you still went to that party.”

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung says hurriedly, groaning a little, waving off his hands. “I forgot.”

“You’re not sorry at all,” Jihoon’s voice shakes, clenching his fists. “Soonyoung, don’t you think you’re being too much?”

“Why are you getting mad at me?” Soonyoung stands up, raising his voice. Jihoon leans against the wall, crossing his arms, staring at Soonyoung with the same vigor—except he’s sober. “I said I was— _hic_ —sorry.”

“I told you to not go to that party, to reserve this day for me, but what did you do, huh?”

“Will you please shut—”

“ _So this is your boyfriend?”_

“Hyung,” Jihoon gulps. He pushes Soonyoung’s head for a bow. “Yes, he is.”

“A frat boy?”

“He’s not usually like this…” Jihoon tries, almost wincing from Yoongi’s piercing expression. He tightens his hold on Soonyoung’s arm, hoping that somehow—that the way he dug his nails on his skin would bring him back into a state of sobriety. “Actually, he doesn’t even party that much anymore. I don’t know what happened today.”

“It’s okay,” Yoongi nods, but if anything, Jihoon knew he meant otherwise. Soonyoung whispers ‘ _who’s this guy?’_ leaving Yoongi more dissatisfied. “I’ve seen enough. I don’t care if you defend him. First impressions last forever, you know.”

“Hyung!” Jihoon takes a step forward—as if to prove a point. “But he’s really athletic, he’s smart and—”

“ _And what_?” Yoongi challenges. “Is this the guy you wanted me to meet? There’s no use in defending him. I already don’t approve of him, especially with this behavior. What about our parents?”

“Even if he’s like this…I still love him,” Jihoon argues, “isn’t that enough reason for you to accept him?”

“He parties, drinks, smokes and probably does drugs. He has tattoos, too,” Yoongi observes, eyeing Soonyoung from head to toe. “Am I wrong?”

“Henna tattoos,” Jihoon quietly corrects, clenching his fists. A tear slips from his eye. “But I don’t really care even if he does all of those. He makes me really happy.”

“Whatever you say, Jihoon,” Yoongi shrugs, getting his jacket from the rack. “I just want you to rethink your decisions. I’m going to be completely honest with you, and you can’t blame me for saying this—I’m just basing it on my observation: do you think this good for nothing guy can last long?”

“He’s not good for nothing. We’ve been living together for a while and I wouldn’t stay with him if I found him unpleasant. Hyung, please understand where I’m coming from.”

“I’m trying to but Jihoon—in a relationship, love is not the only formula,” Yoongi says, his voice soft and tired. “Other things come with it, too.”

 

 

The next morning, Soonyoung wakes up to a headache and to the smell of Jihoon’s traditional hangover soup. He fell asleep on the couch, and by all means, he’s glad that somehow, he found his way home after attending a party last night. He pads down the kitchen, immediately wrapping his arms around Jihoon’s waist, kissing him on the top of his head.

“Sit. I’m almost done.”

Soonyoung notices. He had been with Jihoon for quite a long time now. He'd know if he's upset or mad—that’s the easy part. The hard part is getting to coax the reason out of him. Jihoon sets the soup in front of him with a soft thud, while he acquainted himself with leftovers from yesterday. A simple carbonara made by one of their friends from the culinary course.

“Is something wrong?” Soonyoung asks after a few minutes of silence.

Jihoon doesn’t answer his question. “I’m going somewhere today. I won’t be home for tonight, so don’t forget to lock up—”

“So I did something,” Soonyoung immediately catches on. He puts down his spoon. “You always do this whenever we fight or when I did something.”

“Don’t forget to lock up. There are leftovers in the fridge so just heat them up,” Jihoon continues curtly, wiping his mouth with a tissue. He throws it on the empty plate. “I’m going now.”

“Can you at least tell me what I did?” Soonyoung grips his wrist, his tone soft. “I need to know so I can find a way to fix it. Ignoring me and running away aren’t solutions, Jihoon.”

“You’re hurting my wrist. Let me go.”

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung’s hold falters. “Jihoon, let’s talk. Babe, let’s talk, okay?”

Jihoon quickly opens the door to the hallway, pointing at it, his fingers trembling. “Do you remember what happened last night?”

“No,” Soonyoung answers truthfully, his stance alarmed, just in case Jihoon decides to run off. “Jihoon, you need to tell me what happened last night otherwise I can’t apologize for it nor fix it.”

“Fuck that,” Jihoon spats, glaring at him. “You were sober when I told you that my brother was visiting. You were sober when you decided to attend _that_ party.”

Soonyoung’s expression soften. Suddenly, guilt fills his system, understanding every bit of Jihoon’s actions. He clears his throat, trying to find the right words to say, but all that ever comes out of his mouth is a soft, “I’m sorry.”

“I have to go,” Jihoon breaks out from Soonyoung’s hold. “Don’t follow me.”

“Listen, you don’t have to leave. I’ll sleep on the couch if you want. Jihoon— _babe_ —please. Give me a second chance, I promise I’ll be in my best behavior when I meet your brother again.”

Jihoon bites his inner cheek. “I have to go, Soonyoung. I’ll just text you.”

 

 

***

 

“Jihoonie, you really don’t remember something?”

“Why?” Jihoon gulps. There’s a sudden jolt in his chest, afraid of what Jimin has to say. He had the resolution to not dwell on his past, nor bother remembering it, but unintentionally, he seems to hone an open mind for when people tell him about it. “Is there something I should remember?”

Jimin laughs, shaking his head. He takes another sip of choco. “Nothing. It’s just that you’ve always been that cute when it comes to having crushes.”

“I’ve had crushes before? Were they anything serious?”

“Not that I know of,” Jimin replies smoothly, folding his hands together. “But let’s focus on _now._ Do you really like _like_ this Kwon Soonyoung guy?”

Jihoon bites a smile, hoping that his lower lip won’t turn sore. “I’m not sure if I really do but thinking about it…it’s quite nice. The only thing that’s bothering me is…”

“Is?”

“What if he finds out that I have amnesia?” Jihoon takes a deep breath. He didn’t know whether he should feel light or burdened for voicing out what has been bugging him for the past few weeks. “Isn’t that kind of a turn off?”

Jimin stares at him, licking his lips, trying to find the right words to say. “I think if he really does love you then he should accept all of you.”

“‘Love’ seems too early for now.”

“You’ll know when you feel it,” nods Jimin absentmindedly. He finishes the mug of hot choco with a long gulp, wiping his mouth with the end of his dark sleeve. “How did you two become roommates?”

“Oh, Seokmin set us up. I had a slight financial problem a while back and I needed a bed spacer to cover half of the rent. It was supposed to be a temporary thing, but somehow, everything just fell into place, I guess.”

“That’s nice. I’m really happy for you.”

“Thank you, hyung,” Jihoon says. “But as I said earlier, you won’t be able to meet him tonight, unless you’re willing to stay for a week.”

“So be it, then. I’m curious about this roommate of yours,” he leans forward, whispering, “Jihoon, don’t tell Yoongi about me staying here or about that guy.”

“I understand about you staying here but why shouldn’t I tell him about Soonyoung?”

“He might rip his head off,” Jimin says rather seriously, which Jihoon raised an eyebrow to, which in the end, erupted a nervous laughter from the younger.

“I hope he doesn’t.”

“Yeah, I really hope he doesn’t.”

 

 

 

Jimin does stay for a week, his clothes neatly pressed and organized in his gym bag. Jihoon cooks him breakfast and Soonyoung is still absent. Jimin thought that maybe it's time to actually do something about the situation, since in a way, he was involved in it a few years back. He creeps onto Jihoon's table, taking his red address book, finding Seungcheol's location. Jihoon's handwriting is neat.

His house (maybe Jeonghan's too, if they're still together) isn't that far. Jihoon's at work, so he thought that this would be the best time to pay them a visit. After thanking the taxi driver briefly before going off, he readies himself for what's about to come. He knew Seungcheol turned rich due to his outstanding business and persuasion skills; his huge house reflected that.  

He rings the door bell.

When the door opens, Seungcheol immediately pauses as an all too familiar figure stood before him. He sighs, “come on in.”

“No need,” Jimin shakes his head. “I know Jeonghan isn’t too fond of me after everything Yoongi did to his cousin.”

“But you’re not Yoongi hyung. Jeonghan understands,” Seungcheol makes way for him to enter his humble abode. “Come on in.”

Jimin enters the house warily, politely taking off his boots by the welcome mat. He could hear soft music playing in the background and ponders how sophisticated Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s lifestyle had turned. That or maybe he’s just stereotyping. “I won’t be here for too long. I just need Soonyoung’s number.”

“Why would you need Soonyoung’s number?” Jeonghan appears, leaning against the frame of the entrance to the living room. “He’s already going through a lot. Don’t you think you’re—”

“What I’m about to do is the complete opposite of what you’re thinking,” Jimin cuts him off before he could throw him any form of accusation. “Jihoonie looks really happy with him and if I don’t talk with Soonyoung, then he won’t be for too long. I know you know that.”

“We won’t give his number to you,” Jeonghan fetches his phone from the coffee table. “But I’ll give him your message. Before I do that, I want you to tell me what you plan to do.”

“I want to apologize. But after that, I don’t know. It’ll come out naturally—but I assure you I won’t be of any trouble. I know that he’s suffering, too.”

Jeonghan dials Soonyoung’s number. As it rings, he tells Jimin, “I hope you and Yoongi hyung knew that fact earlier—” he clears his throat, pressing his smartphone against his ear. “ _Soonyoungie?_ You know that café we frequent to near your apartment? Be there at 7pm. No buts.”

Jeonghan puts down the phone. “The café is in front of flower shop, two streets away from their apartment.”

“Jimin,” Seungcheol speaks out after keeping his mouth shut in the whole duration of his visit. “Why do you want to help Soonyoung?”

“Soonyoung is probably courting Jihoon again, and of course, Jihoon is getting wooed. I realized that sometime in the future, Soonyoung would have to tell Jihoon the truth—that they met before, dated each other before—” he looks at Seungcheol and Jeonghan back and forth. “He has to do it,” he pauses. “Because I think Jihoon is starting to slowly remember things.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Jihoon doesn’t remember with _this_ ,” Jimin points to his head. He then brings his hand to his chest, right over where the heart beats. “He remembers with _this_. He remembers with his heart.”

 

 

***

 

 

 

Life is full of surprises. Jihoon can confirm because it was supposed to be just a lazy afternoon dedicated to double checking and revising financial statements; his eyes hurt, on the edge of turning red from staring too much at the computer. His hands started to cramp, too, so he translates it as a signal to give himself a 5-minute power nap. He takes out his phone, setting an alarm. But before he could lull himself to sleep, he hears a knock. That's where the surprise comes in.

“Mr. Lee, you have a guest,” says his assistant, her cheeks bright red. She closes the door, tiptoeing towards her boss. “Sir, you didn’t tell me you had a handsome boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” Jihoon repeats, slightly bewildered. Had he left his information on one of his hook-ups before? Could be since they always pulled this kind of stunt, attempting to visit him during work, bringing gifts, asking for another escapade. Jihoon shudders. “I don’t have a boyfriend. Whoever he is, don’t let him in.”

“But sir, he bought sushi,” his assistant insists, implying that it’d be a huge loss to refuse such a thing. “Lots of sushi.”

“I don’t care about his sushi. Tell him to suck it up and never come back. I’m not interested.”

“Okay, sir. I’ll tell him just that.” his assistant pouts, swaying her hips as she exits the room. Jihoon massages the space between his eyebrows, whipping his phone out once again to readjust his alarm. Just then, with the door slightly ajar, he hears his assistant say, ‘ _Sorry, Mr. Kwon Soonyoung, but he wants you to suck—’_

“Wait!” Jihoon yells, earning his assistant’s attention once again. He stands up, craning his head to peek outside. Soonyoung was indeed right there. “Let him in.”

“Oh,” his assistant blinks. She turns to Soonyoung, “you can come in now.”

Jihoon, face red, sits back down, hearing Soonyoung say a polite ‘thank you’ before coming inside his office with sushi. Soonyoung smiles the moment he sees Jihoon, placing the plastic bag on the coffee table.

“So what did you want me to suck?”

Jihoon stands up once again, turning off the alarm, pocketing his phone. “I’m sorry, I thought you were one of my past hook-ups,” he sits down on the couch, tapping the space beside him, gesturing Soonyoung to comfy himself.

“Past hook-ups, huh,” Soonyoung nods slowly, taking out the containers and chopsticks from the plastic bag. “Ah, great. Amazing.”

Jihoon laughs, pointing a finger at his face. “What’s that? Are you jealous?”

Soonyoung side glares at him, taking off the lid of each container. “No, I’m not.”

“You shouldn’t be jealous because—” he breaks the chopstick. “From now on, I’m only interested in one person.”

“Ah,” Soonyoung grins, leaning back against the couch, his folded hands against his stomach. “Who could that be?”

Jihoon’s mouth twists, thinking hard. A salmon sushi rests between his chopsticks. “Song Joongki maybe?”

Soonyoung’s expression turns sour. “Funny.”

Jihoon giggles. “Say _ah!”_ he feeds Soonyoung the sushi. He takes Soonyoung’s chin, guiding him to chew, since he looked like he’d glare at Jihoon the whole day, stone cold.

“Don’t be like that,” Jihoon takes a California maki. “My type is someone who can dance, do taekwondo, is blonde and has 10:10 for the eyes.”

“What’s that I hear? Is that a confession?” Soonyoung dramatically gasps. He turns around, placing both of his hands on the side of his head. “What should I do? Lee Jihoon is confessing to me! Should I tell him I like him too? Oh, what should I do?”

Jihoon laughs, slapping Soonyoung’s back playfully. “Hey! I’m not confessing!”

“Oh he just told me he didn’t like me. I feel like crying. I should’ve told him earlier when I had the chance.”

“Are you done acting like a lead in a drama?” Jihoon asks, smiling. His facial muscles hurt from doing so, maybe from the disuse. He tends to do it frequently nowadays since he learned that it was the most natural response whenever Soonyoung was around.

“Now that I’ve seen you smile then okay,” he breaks the chopsticks and pops a salmon sushi to his mouth. “I missed you.”

“Whose fault is that?” Jihoon falters, carefully placing the chopsticks on top of the container. “You can’t really go home this week?”

“I’m sorry.”

“But we can have dinner tonight?”

Soonyoung shakes his head, lifting his hand to caress Jihoon’s cheek. “I’m really sorry. That’s why I’m here—to make up for it. I’ll keep on texting you though.”

“Call me. I would like to hear your voice.”

“Okay,” he presses a chaste kiss on Jihoon’s forehead. “I’ll try to clear my schedule next week so we can spend more time together.”

“You don’t have to. It’s work anyway, so I understand,” they hold hands. “Speaking of work, don’t you have one right now?”

“It’s my lunch break,” replies Soonyoung, massaging Jihoon’s hand with his thumb. “And I suppose it’s yours, too.”

“I still have to finish some papers.”

“But still, I think you should give yourself a break,” he takes Jihoon’s chin, making the latter face him. “At least do it for me, hm?”

“I promise I’ll try. But you too, okay?”

“Okay, I promise,” Soonyoung then kisses him on the lips. “Also, I’ll try to go home this week.”

“Please do. My brother-in-law is staying in our apartment right now and I really want you to meet him.”

Soonyoung sighs, his tongue resting between his lips. He squeezes Jihoon’s hand. “Okay. For you.”

Jihoon squishes his cheeks. “Hey don’t be _too_ serious. Jimin hyung is really nice! I’m sure he’d like you. You’re very sweet and reached my standards.”

Soonyoung doesn’t respond from what Jihoon had said. Instead he reaches over to kiss him on the lips, pushing him down the couch. Jihoon, albeit surprised, doesn't question his actions, for he himself wanted this, too. Soonyoung’s hand travels to his waist, while Jihoon wraps his arms around his shoulders, kissing back as superficially.   

Jihoon missed him, even if they texted and called each other in all of the 3 days that Soonyoung couldn’t come home. It was different seeing him the flesh; getting to touch him, hold him, hear his voice. A part of him wants to pull away, rebuild his walls—but all of its bricks are crushed now, and even if he tries to fix it, it wouldn’t be as sturdy. He thinks of this as Soonyoung sucks his tongue, erupting a moan out of him. The sushi turns cold and forgotten.

Soonyoung was the first to pull away. “I’m sorry.”

“No, don’t be. I kissed you back, didn’t I?”

Soonyoung rests on his elbow, his hands cupping Jihoon’s cheeks. He gives him another kiss. “Yeah, you did.”

_“Are you two done making out?”_

Both Soonyoung and Jihoon jump from their positions, adjusting themselves into an upright position. The CEO gets a sushi. “What brought you here, Soonyoung? Shouldn’t you be working?”

Jihoon glares at Seungcheol.

“What? I can’t talk to your boyfriend? He’s my future cousin-in-law, you know.”

Soonyoung sighs, running his hands through his hair. He stands up, crouching to give Jihoon another kiss. Seungcheol blinks, slightly unfazed as Jihoon stands up to return the action at a better angle. He takes another sushi.

“I have to go,” Soonyoung whispers against Jihoon’s lips.

“You’re not going to take the remaining sushi?”

“It’s all yours, don’t worry—”

Seungcheol clears his throat. “I’m right here guys.”

Jihoon turns around and says simply, “orgy.”

“Still not my fault.”

“ _Wait_ , what orgy?”

Jihoon huffs, a scowl patenting his face. “They started an orgy during a party. It was horrible, I can’t believe I even remembered it.”

Seungcheol eyes flit towards Soonyoung, who stared at Jihoon with his mouth slightly hung open. He assures, “really, it’s nothing,” he takes Soonyoung by the arm. “Let’s talk outside. And Jihoon, you finish that report.”

He drags Soonyoung by the arm, practically throwing him outside the office. Jihoon yells them a quick goodbye, but before Soonyoung could catch it, the door closes from the force. “I’ll walk you to the entrance. Let’s talk.”

He follows Seungcheol to the VIP elevator. Soonyoung leans against the wall, staring at the low ceiling, catching the cooling air by the sides. Seungcheol presses the key to the lobby area’s floor.

“Did he really remember that?”

“Apparently,” Seungcheol nods. “To be honest though, I don’t remember the details. But since it was a party, you must’ve been there with him. Although, I think he’s better off not remembering you.”

“What?”

“How would Jihoon react if he found out the guy he’s attracted to right now was his college sweetheart?”

“Don’t you think I haven’t thought of that?” mumbles Soonyoung, stepping out of the elevator, walking with the humble CEO. Seungcheol takes a few greetings from his employees, while Soonyoung dodges shoulders behind him, careful to not trip in such a fancy place. “I’ll figure it out.”

“You better,” Seungcheol says, patting the younger on the shoulder. “Keep visiting. He really likes you.”

“Thanks, I’ll get going now. It’s a long walk to the dance studio.”

“Don’t forget to go to that café later at 7,” Seungcheol reminds him, stopping by the platform. It was drizzling, feather light rain drops grazing Soonyoung’s coat. “It’s an important meeting.”

“A blind date?” Soonyoung asks, unbelieving.

“No, it’s not. But you should go there. You’ll see a familiar face,” he lets out a breath, clucking his tongue. “I don’t want you to go to our place after that, though. I want you to go home to Jihoon.”

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

Soonyoung wasn’t exactly lying. He’s busy with work.

He promises himself to not get involved in the underground dancing scene anymore unless he’s desperate for quick cash. In all honesty, Soonyoung isn’t that much in a rubble, but he tries to be as financially independent as possible. The last time he wasn’t, he was forced to fly to another country. But that was college.

So when he steps inside the fancy café Jeonghan often treats him too, he’d then rather get a cup of instant coffee at a convenience store—but Jihoon’s brother-in-law greets him politely that he had no choice but to sit opposite him.

“We have a bad history,” Jimin starts, his finger running tracing the rim of the cup. “But I want you to hear me out.”

Soonyoung is quiet.

“That’s okay. If I were you, I’d be quite mad. But this is not about whether I approve of you or not, or asking you to stay away from Jihoon. We’ve been through that years ago, but I might as well clarify something—” he sighs, hiding his hands inside his pocket. The café is quite crowded but with their proximity, Soonyoung can hear him well—but he doesn’t show any indication that he does. “I regret doing so. I wish I could tell you that years ago. Apologizing for Yoongi’s behalf won’t do anything either.”

“With all due respect,” Soonyoung finally speaks, “but is that all?”

“What would you do if Jihoon remembers his memories?”

Soonyoung purses his lips. “Then I’d have no choice but to tell him everything. If not, even before he remembers something about our past relationship.”

“Are you in love with Jihoon?”

“Of course,” Soonyoung answers automatically as if it was the most natural thing ever. “I never really stopped.”

“No, what I meant was—are you in love with the Jihoon _now?_ What if you only met him around this time, would you still court him?”

“I thought about that a lot of times,” says Soonyoung, now staring at Jimin. “I don’t really care if he wasn’t the Jihoon we knew before. I still love him the same. And I think he would rather have people love and accept him the way he is now.”

“You really love him, huh?” Jimin finishes his coffee, adjusting his beanie. “Well, in some way I think he remembers you.”

“How could you say that?”

“He remembers you by the heart.”

Soonyoung bites his lower lip, the statement slowly sinking into his mind. He hadn’t thought of it that way. Jimin laughs before he can reply, “why would you think he’d get so attracted to someone he just met?”

“I-I…really don’t know.”

“I just wish you all the best,” Jimin nods. “I’ve given a lot of thought about this meeting. I knew I’d come across you one day. It was wrong, what Yoongi did to the both of you—actually, I took part of it, too—so I give you my deepest apologies.”

He continues, “Soonyoung, this realization struck me way before, not just today. I know you need to know this,” he licks his lips, rubbing his hands together to fight the cold. “It was just a few days after Jihoon woke up from his mini coma, so he still wasn’t quite stable or coherent. That time, Seungcheol and Jeonghan were in uni, Yoongi was running an errand, and you already left for Japan—so I was the only one available to look after him. I remember it clearly—it was late afternoon and he was crying in his sleep,” he trembles. “I didn’t know what to do. Should I call the doctor? Wake him up? And while I was panicking, he whispered something—” he looked up at Soonyoung. “He called your name.”

Soonyoung feels a tear slip from his eye, wiping it before it can drop. He wished he was there for Jihoon, wished that he comforted him, wished that he didn’t have to leave him. Onto the airport and when he stepped onto Japan’s soil, all he could ever think about was that. He thought that he was the only one feeling empty, like everyone in the world was having the time of their lives while he suffered—but now, it seemed like Jihoon, even without his memories, felt just the same.

“And then I realized how much he meant to you even if he doesn’t remember you,” Jimin continues. “When I visited your apartment, he mentioned you, said you were his roommate. Of course, I was surprised—but he talked about you like you were home. Just before I was about to sleep; him on the bed and me on the floor—you know what he told me?” Jimin smiles but there’s something melancholic about it. “He said you looked like the man of his dreams. Everything clicked then.”

“I…really do love Jihoon. Even if you give me your blessing or not, I would still love him.”

“I know,” Jimin then looks up, pointing at something behind him. “Speaking of. Jihoon is right there.”

Soonyoung turns around and sees Jihoon sliding through tables, careful not to get his pelvis hit by the edges.

“Jimin hyung! What are you doing?” Jihoon asks as soon as he got to their table. He sits beside Soonyoung. “Did you say mean things to him?”

Soonyoung squeezes his hand underneath the table. “He didn’t. Jimin hyung here is really nice. Besides, you wanted me to meet him, right?”

“Ah Jihoonie, what do you take me for? I gave him my blessing,” Jimin raises his hand, gesturing for a waiter. “Let’s have dinner here.”

While Jimin ordered for them, Soonyoung turns to Jihoon, “how did you know we were here?”

“I didn’t know. I was about to get some take out from here but then I saw you two. For a moment, I thought you were on a date with someone.”

“How could I go on a date when I can already kiss and hold hands with a pretty person like you?”

“Good point.”

“Ah, these kids. You act like you two are in your own world,” Jimin comments offhandedly.

“Hyung, how did you know what Soonyoung looked like?”

Jimin shrugs, crossing his arms. “I asked Seungcheol. He was pretty easy to convince.”

The three of them have dinner then—in this fancy café with fancy food. Consequently, the prices are, too. Jihoon offers him a treat, but he refuses since he isn’t that hungry and a miniscule piece of bread and an overwhelmingly dressed salad wouldn’t really be enough to revitalize him.

They talk, Jimin and Soonyoung acting as if this was the first time they met. Jihoon is happy though, and for Soonyoung, that's all that matters. When they left the café, Soonyoung and Jihoon walk hand-in-hand, while Jimin paced ahead of them. Before they exited though, Jimin had whispered to him, “don’t worry, I won’t tell Yoongi you’re back.”

It should give Soonyoung a relief, but having that as a reaction ultimately makes him feel like a coward—bad memories connected with Jihoon’s brother flooding him. He shouldn’t think too much of it, because right now Jihoon leaned against him, telling him about work and how his co-workers gushed about him.

“What did you tell them?”

“I told them you were off-limits. We’re not really together, you know?”

Soonyoung clears his throat, chuckling after. “I’ll ask you that question someday. I’m confident now.”

“What if I say ‘no’?”

“Then I’ll be really sad. Spare this poor man mercy.”

Jihoon laughs, hitting him playfully on the chest. Jimin hears everything and he thought, witnessing a scene like this could make anyone naturally smile. He lets them have their moment.

The walk to the apartment wasn’t long. But as soon as they reached it, they—or Jimin rather—wanted to go back to where they came from. Alarmed, he turns to Soonyoung and Jihoon. He gives Soonyoung a worried glance.

“Go back.”

“Hm? What’s happening, hyung?” Jihoon asks.

“Soonyoung, go back to the café or something. I’m going to handle something.”

“Hyung, we’re not going back unless you tell us what’s happening,” insists Jihoon.

“Yoongi’s car is right there,” Jimin says at once. “So go back. This is our fight as a married couple and I don’t want to drag you both—” he gives Soonyoung a knowing look. “And Soonyoung…”

_If you love my brother, then you shouldn’t hold him back. If you love him, then I think it would be for the best if you leave._

Soonyoung lets go of Jihoon’s hand.

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hope u guys enjoyed this chapter!!! <3


	8. Chapter 8

“I knew you’d be here.”

“I didn’t think you’d look here to be honest,” Jimin says as Yoongi takes tentative steps towards him, the plastic bag he held rustling against the quiet, numerous products edging the corners of the plastic. “In fact, I didn’t want you to.”

“I had to,” replies Yoongi softly. “I brought your favorite instant ramyun and your favorite yogurt drink.”

“You think that would force me to come home with you?”

“Yes,” he nods, handing him the plastic. “We should talk it out. Just…get in the car please.”

“My stuff is still in Jihoon’s apartment.”

“Just get in the car,” repeats Yoongi, bringing out his keys. He looked sincerely apologetic, bags under his eyes, his voice tired. Jimin knows his sleep deprivation all too well from sleeping beside him for years and beyond, singing lullabies or sometimes nothing at all. Yoongi doesn’t just get it from shots of caffeine. He worries too much, that guy: cared so deeply about the people around him. About his employees, about his friends and about his family. It made his heart ache, seeing his husband like that. “Please, Jimin?”

Eventually he gives in, uncaring of the luggage he left in Jihoon’s apartment. He nods and Yoongi presses the button on his key, opening the doors to his car. Jimin steps inside, wrapping the seatbelt around him quietly. He felt quite guilty for not giving Jihoon and Soonyoung a proper goodbye, but he thinks it’s just for the best.

And then something clicks.

“How long have you been in that convenience store?”

“Let’s not talk about that,” says Yoongi knowingly, as if he already caught up on what Jimin was referring to. He pauses, driving the car to an average speed. “If you’re wondering, I did see Soonyoung, but I don’t want to talk nor care about that now. Let’s talk about us.”

“The divorce papers are enough to speak,” he intended to say such a thing with confidence, but instead he sounded quiet, his voice small. He had left those divorce papers on the kitchen counter before fleeting to Jihoon’s apartment, asking Yoongi to be considerate and sign it as soon as possible, so they won’t have to deal with any hassle. But Yoongi is stubborn.

“You left without any explanation,” starts Yoongi calmly, driving smoothly. “How frustrated I must’ve been. Did you think of that?”

“You think I don’t think of you? I’m doing this for the both of us, I’m doing this for you.”

Yoongi clenches his jaw, clucking his tongue after. He grips the steering wheel. “Fine, I’m going to sign the divorce papers.”

Jimin nods, whispering a ‘thank you,’ but something else clogs in the back of his throat. It’s what he wanted, he repeats to himself.

“But…” Yoongi adds, “I will still pay for your medicine, your treatment and visit you every day to whichever house you’ll stay to. In fact, you can still stay at our house but if you want me to sign those divorce papers, then I will.”

“Fuck you,” Jimin covers his mouth, catching his breath. He’s crying. “I can die any second. I can die right now.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “Then I’ll die with you.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” assures Soonyoung, his voice distant—Jihoon catches it and stares at him with such analyzation. He knows he’s not going to buy it. They’re by a cramped alleyway near the apartment complex opposite them, the one where Wonwoo and Mingyu—Jihoon’s co-workers—lived in. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“You’re not fine,” Jihoon says, taking a tentative step forward, but Soonyoung slumps himself against the brick, turning away from him. “It’s okay if you don’t want to tell me why you’re upset, but I do want to help you.”

“I’m just—” he stares at Jihoon. He tries to filter what he was about to say. But to no avail, the truth slips from his tongue. Maybe because he thought he needed to hear it, the confirmation of it all. Maybe because Jihoon needed to know it as well.

“I’m just scared of not being with you, Jihoon.”

And if you look at it, considering the stage of their relationship, it might come off as a very early thing to say—so when Jihoon takes a step back, eyes wide, his expression unreadable; Soonyoung accepts it. He talks for years, but Jihoon takes all of it as months.

Misinterpretations are inevitable. Moreover, if you expect for the worst. This time, Jihoon takes him aback:

“Then…don’t ever let go of my hand again.”

 

 

 

They both go home after Jimin had texted them it was already fine to do so. Jihoon didn’t need to worry about the luggage he left, because sooner or later, he was going to find a way to get it back. It disappoints Jihoon somehow that he didn’t get to greet his brother properly, but with the situation he and Jimin have, then he understands.

After he had taken a bathe, he gathers up the courage to knock on Soonyoung’s door, leaning over the red line, careful not to step pass it. He wonders of its purpose now—before, it would set privacy and territories—but now he just wants to rip it off, spend his nights with Soonyoung hugging him or maybe kissing him. A man could dream.

“Hey,” Soonyoung’s fresh out of the bathe too. Both of their hairs are still wet, droplets dipping on the platform. Both didn’t seem to mind, but Jihoon’s shoulders felt cold.

“May I?”

“Wait,” Soonyoung gestures him to take a step back. He kneels down, catching the end of the red tape with his fingernail, then completely ripping it off with a satisfying sound. The space it left looked prominently cleaner than the area surrounding it, an evidence of how long it had been there. It’s a huge step, but it felt like it was the right thing to do—natural, even. Soonyoung throws the tape to the trash can beside the kitchen counter and says, “come in.”

Jihoon blushes. He takes slow steps towards Soonyoung’s bed while the latter takes out a Darth Vader bathe towel. He sits beside Jihoon and dries his hair.

“You must really like Star Wars, huh?”

Soonyoung massages his head with the towel, chuckling slightly when the cloth covers half of Jihoon’s face. “I do. But I like you more.”

Jihoon glares at him, taking the towel from Soonyoung’s hand, placing it on his lap. “Really now.”

“Mhmm,” Soonyoung hums, nodding. “I really like you, Lee Jihoon.”

“I like you too, Kwon Soonyoung.”

Jihoon then straddles his lap, cupping both of his cheeks, fitting their mouths together for a kiss. Soonyoung wraps his arms by the waist, supporting him before he could topple down—but Jihoon pushes him down the bed, now resorting to butterfly kisses, smiling in between every touch.

“Are you going to sleep with me here?”

“There’s a reason why I knocked on your door.”

“Okay,” Soonyoung adjusts their position. His hands are still wrapped around Jihoon’s waist, cuddling him tightly. He gives him another kiss. “Goodnight.”

“That’s it?”

“Why? Did you expect something else, hm?”

“No,” Jihoon quickly denies, folding his hands against his stomach, staring at the ceiling. “I didn’t expect anything. Goodnight.”

Soonyoung stands up quickly to turn off the light switch, the lamp coming to aglow after. He goes back to bed and cuddles Jihoon once again, inhaling his vanilla scent. “Goodnight, Jihoon.”

He doesn’t dream of anything that night—instead, he nuzzles closer to Soonyoung.

 

 

***

 

 

“I think I’m going to have a headache.”

“I told you to not drink anything that has caffeine,” Seungcheol says, taking the iced Americano from Jeonghan’s hand. “You’re weak when it comes to caffeine.”

“Thanks for the reminder. I’m just really sleepy and I need energy.”

Seungcheol smirks, raising his eyebrows. With a suggestive tone, he says, “I could help you with that.”

“ _Jesus,_ I’m right here,” reminds Jihoon, pocketing his wallet after ordering a cup of iced green tea latte. They’re by the café near the factory they were surveying—checking every equipment, work force and etiquettes. As for Jihoon, the financial statements of the markets they use for stocking, which connectively includes the factory’s standing. Everything must add up to the report he did a few days before, or else a problem would arise. But he doubts it would happen. He hates field work but he thinks that it’d be a good environment change, having himself roam an Ethyl-induced place with machineries.

“Yeah,” Jeonghan wraps his arms around Jihoon’s. “Our Jihoonie is right here. And our workers.”

“I was just trying to help. There bathroom is really nice, honey, I’m just—”

“ _Seungcheol_.”

“Okay,” he gives up, loudly sipping the drink. They sit back down on their own table, away from the other employees. Jihoon sips his iced green tea latte quietly, pulling out his phone to double check if he missed any account earlier.

“Oh, Jihoonie. Didn’t you know? The taekwondo studio Soonyoungie works on is just near here.”

Jihoon looks up from his phone. “Really? He travels this far?”

“Yup,” Jeonghan nods. “It’s a train away from your apartment I think.”

Seungcheol points a finger at him. “Ah, look at his face. He immediately changes when Soonyoung is mentioned,” he leans closer to Jeonghan and whispers, “they made out in his office once.”

“I like him,” Jihoon confesses, crossing his legs. The thought of Soonyoung makes him smile, especially this morning, when the blonde woke him up with kisses, accepting the sweet gesture despite his smelly morning breath. “I like him a lot and I won’t deny anything.”

“I’m so happy for you,” says Jeonghan truthfully, holding Jihoon’s hand. “So are you two together _together?_ ”

“Not…yet?”

“But if he’d ask you to be with him, would you say ‘yes’?”

“Of course,” Jihoon replies swiftly. He twirls the straw of his drink, playing with the whip cream. “I mean, why not?” from the corner of his eye, he spots some children walking hand-in-hand with their parents, uniformly wearing taekwondo pants.  Jihoon assumes— “Is the taekwondo studio just around the corner?”

“Why? You want to visit Soonyoung?”

“No, fine. We’re working anyway. I’m just going to text him.”

Just when Jihoon opens his phone to do so, a loud rustle comes, chair screeching against the floor. It caused quite the attention, especially since Seungkwan—who came with them to check the market stocks—had stood up, pointedly staring outside the window, his face red with agitation. His co-workers seem to have empathized with him for they pulled the ends of his coat, gesturing him to sit back down with worry etched on their faces, whispering how he shouldn’t go and make a scandal.

“What a coincidence,” Seungcheol mutters. Jihoon follows his sight.

“Seungcheol,” Jeonghan says carefully, “Hansol asked for a sick leave, right?”

“Jeonghan,” whispers Seungcheol. “I want you to trust me.”

There, by the small diner fronting them, was Hansol and Jisoo, talking over fruit shakes with a miniature umbrella atop the rims. They weren’t by the window—in fact, they were sitting on a table set in the middle of the diner.

Seungcheol, a well-known CEO in the country, should put order in his workplace. He _does_ , but he often treats his employees like his friends—very lenient and very considerate. He jokes around even during meetings, shoving off the serious atmosphere emitted by graphs, numbers and money.

But right now—he’s serious. It’s not exactly a good thing, it’s not exactly a bad thing either. It’s just—it’s _rare_.

“Excuse me, sir, but can I go outside? I just have to deal with something.”

“Sit down, Seungkwan. This is an order from your boss. Please.”

“But, sir!”

“You wouldn’t want to put the company’s image in line, wouldn’t you?” Seungcheol challenges calmly, his voice stable and smooth.

“Sir, I know you know what’s happening, and if I don’t go and confront them now, then I’ll probably regret—”

Seungcheol stands up and takes a step closer to Seungkwan. He lowers his voice, “think about this situation clearly. You’re the third party here, Mr. Boo.”

“Why are you so intent on protecting Hansol?” Seungkwan asks, the opposite volume as Seungcheol. “Is it because you’re a cheater yourself, too?”

Seungcheol bites his inner cheek, subsequently scowling after. Jeonghan stills, clenching his fists, trying to steady his breathing. Jihoon couldn’t exactly pinpoint it, but his heart sinks, staring at Seungcheol with—perhaps—a new light. But a part of him trusts him, trusts that his best friend wouldn’t do that to his fiancé. If a hundred thoughts swarmed inside Jihoon’s mind, a million must’ve passed in Jeonghan’s.

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol turns to him. “I told you to trust me, right? We’ll talk about this at home.”

“Do you…” his voice shakes. “Do you think I can trust you, right now?”

“I want you to.”

Love is a silly thing, Jihoon thinks. He may have known about it before, if he ever fell into such a state, but right now he doesn’t have the slightest idea of what it truly was. Maybe Soonyoung can show him, maybe he can learn it from him, or maybe he wouldn’t bother at all.

If he remembered Seungcheol and Jeonghan’s moments during college—despite having a complete wipeout amnesia with little chances of remembering the past—then their relationship must’ve been really special. Albeit wishing he remembered something else, a superficial element in his life—he was still thankful of the memories his brain saved—because then, it’d remind him that it was indeed possible to love and to be loved. Even if a lot of drinking was involved, even in a goddamn orgy, and even during breakfasts with the promise of an engagement ring.

This must be the reason why he was frustrated, because after losing his memories, he only clung onto the idea of love from other people’s lives. So when the root weakens, he might inevitably fall out of it, too. So he hopes—he prays that Seungcheol wouldn’t break Jeonghan’s heart like that.

“I’m leaving,” Jeonghan announces, blindly searching for his suitcase. He runs and naturally, Seungcheol follows after him. The café was quiet during the whole ordeal. Jihoon stills, Seungkwan sobs, and the other workers hold their breath.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan are by the opposite sidewalk now. He sees Seungcheol grab the end of Jeonghan’s sleeve, mouth going off with reasons. Jeonghan doesn’t listen, because he was crying, too—and just then Jihoon remembers what Jeonghan had told him about a year ago.

_“Seungcheol and I have been engaged for a long time already. But even then, I still get insecure. He tells me he loves me and I know he does, but sometimes, I just can’t believe it.”_

Seungkwan steps outside of the café, too.

Jihoon knew he had to do something. He follows Seungkwan out, unsure of what to say, but his legs take him to the road. From the distance, he could see Hansol’s face, how it widens in surprise. From the corner of his eyes, he sees Seungcheol trying to hold Jeonghan.

“ _JIHOON!”_

It must’ve been Jeonghan who screamed his name, it could be Seungcheol who ran to him. It could be Seungkwan who turned his back, trying to grab a hold of him. He wasn’t so sure, because a long, blaring honk filled his eardrums instead. 

He falls to the ground.

 

 

 

 

 

 

_“I’ll be fine. I have a strong immune system. Don’t worry about me. I’ll come back to you.”_

 

 

 

 

 

 

***

_4 years ago, approximately 4 days after he woke up:_

 

“Your name is Lee Jihoon. You’re 22 years old.”

“Jihoon,” he repeats. It felt foreign. “My name is Jihoon.”

“Yes,” the man beside him nods, rubbing his nose, sniffing. He tries to smile, and somehow, it made Jihoon feel slightly better. “Your name is Jihoon, and I’m your big brother. My name is Yoongi.”

“Yoongi hyung,” he repeats once again. He thinks back to the nurses pulling him out of the room, screaming his name. “I’m sorry for making you cry.”

Yoongi wipes his tears, eyes wet and running on a minute of sleep. “No, it’s okay. It’s not your fault.”

“I must love you a lot, hyung. And you must love me a lot, too.”

“Of course, we’re family. Our Jihoonie is very loved.”

Love is abundant. Jihoon learns that in this world, you will never run out of people who loves you. The heart can hold so much, can feel so much. He might lack a great deal in his mind, but his heart can remember for his stead—that’s what he believed.

“Jihoon, I love you so much. Hyung will take care of you, okay?”

Yoongi buries his head on the sheets, his shoulders shaking. He holds Jihoon’s hand steadily, though. Jihoon couldn’t say so much. He didn’t really know the ropes of comfort. But he says, “I trust you, hyung.”

It was enough.

 

 

 

 

 

“My name is Choi Seungcheol. We’ve been best friends since we were practically babies—okay, that was an exaggeration. Sometime after primary school, I think? I’m older than you by a year though, and for some reason we’re informal and you don’t call me hyung, but that’s okay since Soony—” he bites his tongue, lips trembling. Jihoon raises his eyebrows, waiting for him to continue.

But before he could, the long-haired man beside him covers his eyes. Seungcheol cries then. “I’m sorry, he gets really talkative when he’s about to cry or something. Anyway, my name is Jeonghan and you’re fonder of me than Seungcheol.”

Jihoon laughs, coughing slightly when his stomach hurt from doing so. “That’s nice. It’s nice to meet you two.”

He met Jimin earlier and learned that he was his brother’s fiancé. He eyes Jeonghan’s ring finger to see if something silver was on it. “Are you two…perhaps…?”

“Yes, we’re engaged. And you’re our best man.”

“Best man…?”

“It means your attendance is the most important among the guests,” Jeonghan wets his chapped lips. “So make sure you attend our wedding, okay?”

“Of course,” Jihoon nods. Anything for his friends.

“I’m just…going to make a call,” Seungcheol whispers, caressing his hand. “I’ll be back in a while.”

When Seungcheol steps out of the room, Jeonghan takes his seat. “Jihoonie, do you…”

“I really don’t remember anything,” says Jihoon. “It almost feels like I’m a newborn baby.”

Thankfully, Jeonghan doesn’t cry. Instead, he slumps his head on the mattress, holding Jihoon’s hand. “Well, Jihoon, you have a very colorful life and we promise we’ll be with you in every step of the way.”

 

 

 

Jihoon was aware.

He was aware that people were hiding something from him, but he doesn’t say anything about it. He thought that if people didn’t want him to know about _it_ , then maybe it must’ve been very toxic to him before, so he lets it be.

He could notice how careful his friends were: minding every roll of their tongue, biting it when it gets too much. They would mumble, whisper, purse their lips, and Jihoon would just turn away, pretending to not notice anything. Seokmin was a different case.

He visited him almost every day, feeding him stories to laugh about. It’d give him an idea of what college was like, of the things he missed and probably had experienced at one point. He was a nice, caring friend and Jihoon thinks he’s lucky to have someone like him in his life.

There was a night where Seokmin stayed by his side. It was the first time he did, laying his head on the mattress, breathing against Jihoon’s hand. That time, Seokmin must’ve assumed he already fell into slumber, because he wouldn’t say such a thing in broad daylight, where he blinked, talked and stared off the wall.

_“How could he leave you like this?”_

He doesn’t ask the next morning. 

 

 

 

***

 

Jihoon, contrary to belief, does have an idea of what love is. At first, the idea of it weren’t of his own or from his personal experiences, leeching off from secondary sources. Maybe from a book, a movie, the people around him. Loneliness comes with it, too: a concept that stuck to him ever since he woke up from his mini coma four years ago—when Yoongi retaught him what it’s like to accept and love your family, while Seungcheol and Jeonghan retaught him how true friends will always be there for you when you needed them.

His past hook-ups couldn’t do so much either, only gave him the reality of what lust can do to a person. And—

He thought about that _someone_ , too—the one who left him four years ago, the one people mumbled about, the one people hid from him. He wonders his whereabouts, what his name would mean, what he does for a living.  

One thing’s for sure, that person must’ve had a strong immune system, can fight through the rain with just a turtleneck, defenseless without an umbrella and a raincoat. He wished he could make out his features.

Jihoon finally opens his eyes and sees Soonyoung kneeling before him, picking him up to cradle his head. The taekwondo studio isn’t far away, so he crosses out the possibility of hallucinating. At least he remembers that. He can still recognize Seungcheol, Jeonghan, Seungkwan and Jisoo and Hansol who stood by the sidewalk to witness the incident. At least.

“Soonyoung, take me somewhere far away from here.”

 

 

 

***

 

“I’m going to let you in three secrets.”

Soonyoung looks up to him. He hasn’t slept properly for weeks, the same duration as Jihoon’s confinement. He only suffered from minor injuries: a sore pair of hips and a dislocated shoulder, but he still needed to be confined for thorough check-ups.

“I fucking hate hospitals,” says Jihoon, fiddling with the crisp hospital blanket. “But somehow, I always end up here.”

“Jihoon,” Soonyoung starts carefully. “Do you want to tell me what exactly happened?”

“It’s simple. I didn’t look left and right before crossing the road. I got hit by a car and now here I am.”

“I was there, Jihoon,” Soonyoung says sternly. “I was just walking down the sidewalk with Byulyi noona, and then I just heard someone scream your name. And then…I saw the car—”

“But I’m fine now—”

“Something else could’ve happened to you, Jihoon.”

“Like what?” he laughs dryly. “Amnesia?”

When Soonyoung purses his lips, filling in silence, Jihoon takes it as the opportunity to promptly say, “do you want to know my second secret, Soonyoung?” he blinks back tears. “My brother Yoongi always tells me the truth. Whenever I would ask something, he’d tell me the answer straight away,” Soonyoung grips his hand. “From him, I learned that my Dad…my Dad was cheating on my Mom. I really hate cheaters.”

He continues, “And the third secret is: I’m not stupid. Sometimes I know when people are actually lying to me. Even if it’s for my own good. Seokmin…I know he lied to me when he said we dated before. That person has a weak immune system. He gets sick very easily, and I have to buy him lots of cool packs,” he pauses, taking a deep breath. “Seungcheol and Jeonghan lie to me sometimes, too. No, ‘lie’ isn’t the right word. They’re hiding something from me. And overall? I’m just tired. I’m just really, really tired, Soonyoung. I want it all to stop.”

Jihoon cries for hours then. Soonyoung held him until he fell asleep. He rides the blanket higher, just below Jihoon’s chest level, tucking him properly. He holds him until he himself falls asleep, too. He doesn’t let go of Jihoon’s hand.

 

 

 

The next morning was slightly better. Jihoon smiles, complains a little about the cardboard taste of his hospital food breakfast, and kisses Soonyoung whenever he felt like it.

“Hey, about yesterday. I’m sorry. I feel embarrassed crying in front of you and—”

“It’s fine,” assures Soonyoung, caressing his cheek. “It’s okay to cry.”

Jihoon nods, leaning against his touch. “So now, please be a good future boyfriend and buy me orange juice packs.”

“Future boyfriend?” Soonyoung chuckles. “Okay, fine. I’ll be a good _future_ boyfriend and buy you those orange juice packs.”

“You better,” Jihoon glares at him. “You keep drinking all of them at home.”

Soonyoung grins at him, “Fine, I’ll go get it for you. Give me a kiss.”

Jihoon pulls him for one; long but soft, almost innocent. Soonyoung pulls away and retrieves his wallet on the table beside the bed. “Will you be okay?”

“I’ll be okay. Now go!”

 

 

When he gets back from the nearest convenience store, the plastic brushing against his hips as he walked down the halls, an unusual but almost subdued sight brings him into a halt. By the bench fronting Jihoon’s room sat Yoongi.

“Sit in front of me,” Yoongi says at once. “How do we always end up like this?”

He doesn’t move from his spot. “I’m not going to leave him.”

“This time, I’m not asking you to,” Yoongi sighs. “But I’m totally not opposed to the idea either.”

“I’m not going to leave him,” Soonyoung repeats.

“I know because you love him. And you came back,” Yoongi frowns, “what I’m curious about is: why is it when you’re in the picture, something bad always happens to Jihoon?”

Soonyoung stays quiet.

“Did you know? His memories are almost coming back. You could say it’s a late Christmas miracle,” Yoongi stands up from his seat, hands in his pockets. “I’m just curious on how are you going to deal with that.”

“I’m going to tell him the truth,” says Soonyoung, gripping the plastic, digging his fingernails on his palm.

“If you can,” Yoongi challenges. “I’m done with my visit. I’m going to take my leave now.”

Soonyoung nods, stepping aside to let Yoongi pass. He takes a deep breath.

“Oh and Soonyoung? Do you still blame yourself for Jihoon’s accident years ago?”

He doesn’t answer. So Yoongi continues, “good. Because until now, I’m still blaming you for it.”

 

 

  

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comments and kudos are very much appreciated yey!!!


	9. Chapter 9

Just like Christmas, Valentine’s day can be quite eventful, too.

There aren’t any Valentine’s Day committee, no. No decorations, no cosplays, but still. It gives off an entirely different entertainment. It borders the art of masochism, especially with the themes ‘love’ and ‘confession.’

The work progress of the company (under all business terms) doesn’t waver, so employees with hopes of establishing office romances with their crushes have to time breaks, sneaking chocolates and flowers to their special someone’s cubicles.

It has only been a few days since his discharge, so as an etiquette, he was granted half-days. Jihoon wanted to protest at first, but since it was Valentine’s day and he wanted to spend more time with Soonyoung, he shuts his mouth and lets the situation be. Seungcheol, who expected him to fight back, questions his priorities.

And speaking of. Seungcheol, the CEO, might’ve been Santa Claus at one point (or any prominent holiday figures), but today, he’s no cupid. Seungcheol assaults Jihoon’s sofa pillows with tears.

“Why are you so sulky again?”

“Jeonghan,” Seungcheol says simply.

“You two made up already.”

“Yeah but I still sleep on the couch. _This_ ,” Seungcheol wriggles his socked foot in the air. Thankfully, it doesn’t smell. “Is practically my natural habitat. Couches are now my friends.”

“You deserved it,” Jihoon says. “And that black eye from Soonyoung. No offense.”

“I keep forgetting Soonyoung can punch pretty well. Damn that taekwondo teacher,” he then sits up. “You know what, _that little shit_ —”

“ _He’s amazing._ ”

Seungcheol glares at him. “Okay, I get that you’re shit head over heels with him, but can you please let me—” he presses his inner lips against his teeth. “Finish?”

Jihoon rolls his eyes. Seungcheol continues, “ _anyway_ , the moment I humbly opened the door for Soonyoung, he fucking punched me. No greetings—wait, actually the punch was _the_ greeting. He even cracked his knuckles after. So I was like, ‘ _what in the living fuck, dude?’_ but then I remember he’s actually Jeonghan’s cousin. I wanted to bury myself in a fucking hole, and then cry on Jeonghan’s feet after. I actually did that, though.”

“What’s important is that you didn’t cheat and it was all a misunderstanding,” Jihoon stands up. “Good luck explaining that to Soonyoung though. _Again._ He’s overprotective of Jeonghan.”

“I already explained it to your boyfriend, but he still won’t budge,” Seungcheol sighs, resting his nape atop the back of the couch.

“Well, try harder,” Jihoon advises. “He just came home one night and told me he punched you and it felt great.”

“What did you say after?”

Jihoon hums. “Hmm? I asked him if his fist was doing fine.”

Seungcheol glares at him.

Jihoon rolls his eyes, “anyway, I have to go to the cafeteria. Are you gonna stay there?”

“Yeah, your couch is really comfy.”

“Sure. Oh and Soonyoung’s gonna pick me up here, so. Good luck if he sees you there.”

“I can handle Soonyoung.”

“Your black eye says otherwise,” says Jihoon before stepping out of his office.

The frenzy doesn’t end there, unfortunately. Because the moment he stepped out of the elevator, Wonwoo takes him, almost passing like a wind. Jihoon, without any other choice, follows his footsteps, guided by the hands gripping his shoulders.

“What the fuck, Wonwoo?”

“Help.”

“What.”

“Hide me,” whispers Wonwoo frantically, crouching down. “I’m gonna die.”

“Why? What happened?”

Wonwoo leads him to a secluded corner. From here, he could smell lunch and of course, with their close proximity, Wonwoo’s Axe body spray as well. “You know how our cafeteria is open to employees and clients right?”

“Right,” Jihoon nods.

“Fuck, my ex is there. He’s a client. And Mingyu, my boyfriend. They’re breathing in the same air. Holy shit what do I do?”

Jihoon stands on his tippy toes. “Where’s your ex?”

“He’s tall and has dark hair.”

Jihoon groans. “Be more specific, Wonwoo.”

“ _Holy shit_ , he looked right here. Help.”

Jihoon slides away from his grip. “This isn’t a really good hiding place, Wonwoo.”

“He got married,” Wonwoo whispers all of the sudden. “Last year. I was invited but I didn’t go.

“Just try to greet him. I think it’d burden you more if you don’t,” Jihoon says. “And its Valentine’s Day, so don’t stress out too much, okay? Anyway, I have to go—”

“Wait!”

“ _Lee Jihoon?_ ”

Jihoon frowns at the guy who just bumped into him. He definitely wasn’t an employee, since he wore a casual coat over a sweater, clutching a folder bag in between his armpit. He’s tall and has dark hair, and Jihoon stares back at Wonwoo, who faced the wall, in the verge of having a mental breakdown.

“And you are?”

“Wen Junhui,” the guy takes his hand and profusely shakes it. “I own the dance studio Soonyoung works in. He talks about you a lot. He came here with me.”

Jihoon blushes. “Ah,” he clears his throat. “Well, it’s really nice to meet you. But, uhm, what brought you here?”

“Oh, I’m here to open a branch in one of your malls. May I ask who’s in charge of the referral?”

Jihoon grins. He snaps his fingers and points to Wonwoo. “That guy over there.”

“Wonwoo?”

“Yup,” he awkwardly pats Junhui’s shoulder. “I wish you the best.”

He walks out of the scene after seeing Junhui carefully tap Wonwoo’s shoulder. The latter jumps, wipes his hand on his slacks, and clears his throat. And then suddenly, a voice says—

“Jihoon hyung, can I talk to you?”

 

 

 

 

 

“In all honesty, I’m tired of hospitals,” Jihoon rolls his recovering shoulder, then pouring himself a cup of coffee. It’s dark but accentuated with two sugar cubes. “because hospitals meant recovery, and recovery meant half-days,” he covers the lid. “But even if I get half-days, I still get full pays. So in return, guilt comes with the equation, too,” he leans against counter, sipping lounge coffee, careful not to puncture the cup with his grown fingernails. “That’s an example of a sentiment. And I assume you have one to ponder about. Now I have two questions, Mr. Chwe, and you’ll answer them by order: _one_ , why did you call me out here? And _two_ , aren’t you tired of lying?”

“ _One_ ,” Hansol starts obediently, leaning against the door. “I want to explain things.”

“And _two_?”

Hansol bites his lower lip. “Yes.”

“Okay,” Jihoon nods. He takes a step forward. “Now move. I have some other matters to attend to.”

“But I still need to explain and you’re the only one who can help—”

“I can’t help you with anything. And you don’t need to explain things to me, Hansol,” Jihoon cuts off. “Explain them to Seungkwan.”

“But hyung, please. It’s because of me you got charged to the hospital and—”

Jihoon sighs. He looks at Hansol’s eyes—shameful yet defying. He scoffs at the irony of it all, the reflection and the unpinning understanding he feels for him. “Was it because you felt lonely?”

Hansol nods silently after a few beats of silence. “Yes. Josh…he’s not always home. I mean, I understand because it’s his work, but I just can’t—”

_“Do you love Jisoo?”_

Hansol gulps. “Of course I do.”

“How about Seungkwan. You love him too?”

“I don’t know.”

Jihoon lets out a deep breath. Being in the same cramped space as Hansol suffocates him, so he takes the liberty to reach for the doorknob, albeit crippled and shaken to his boots. It was the kind of anger with a root, and Jihoon can’t decide if he prefers having that over unprecedented anger.

“Hansol,” Jihoon says, “you know of my amnesia, right?”

Hansol nods slowly.

“Of course you probably do. And it’s okay, I don’t mind, but,” he turns back to him. “I have a brother. When I ask questions about my past, he answers. I asked him about our Dad one time. My brother told me he was a cheater—left my Mom for brothels, fucking whoever. I don’t have any solid memory of him, but one thing’s for sure, I must’ve respected and looked up to him at one point,” he crumples the cup in his hand. “So I hope you get why I don’t like people like you, Hansol.”

He continues, “the thing is: everyone lies. People would always hide something from you. But I believe we all deserve someone who’s brave enough to go out of their way to tell the truth. All of it. _Hansol_ , you were that someone to Jisoo. And for a moment, you were to Seungkwan, too. How ironic, right?”

“But hyung, do you have _that someone_ in your life?”

Jihoon pauses, eyebrows furrowing to a thought. The 5-minute advanced clock ticks and the ventilation drops a temperature, making him shiver under his suit. He needed warmth. Such a thing could remind him of someone. “No, I don’t.”

“Not even Soonyoung hyung?”

Jihoon purses his lips. Right. Hansol must’ve met Soonyoung through Seungkwan. “That’s none of your business.”

Hansol looks at him straight in the eye. “But you need to know something about him.”

 

 

***

 

Jihoon comes back to his office with Soonyoung straddling Seungcheol on the couch with a raised fist.

“Jihoon, help me,” Seungcheol whimpers. “Soonyoung’s about to castrate me and—”

“Why are people always asking for my help even if they know I can’t do anything about it?” Jihoon snaps, not even bothering to greet Soonyoung. He hangs his coat over his arm and takes his bag.

“Jihoon-ah, what happened?” Soonyoung asks. Seungcheol is just as worried.

“You have some explaining to do,” Jihoon says at once. “And _you_ —” he points at Seungcheol. “Don’t stress Jeonghan out too much.”

The walk outside the company was quiet, Soonyoung trailing behind him with a frown gracing his features. Jihoon walks fast, fists clenched, lips taut, all the way to the restaurant Jihoon could think of on the top of his head.  

After they sat down and ordered, Soonyoung finally opens his mouth to ask, “are you ready to tell me what happened?”

“I don’t know. You might punch me—”

“I will _never_ lay a finger on—”

“Just like what you did to Seokmin.”

Soonyoung purses his lips. “I can explain.”

“And that’s not it. You punched him because he set the both of us up. Did you really hate being my roommate that much?”

“I panicked that time, okay? We slept the night before. You were a one-night stand, and it was kind of awkward living with you that time.”

“Well,” Jihoon leans back, crossing his arms. “What am I to you now?”

Soonyoung grins, reaching over to pinch Jihoon’s cheeks, slowly wiping the frown off his face. “My cute little baby.”

“I…seriously hate you. Tripped on the pavement my ass.” Jihoon says, massaging his damaged cheeks. Soonyoung gives him a peck. “Don’t do that ever again, okay?”

“I promise.”

“So repeat after me: violence is not the answer,” Jihoon says slowly, articulating every word.

“Violence is not the answer,” Soonyoung obediently repeats.

“Very good,” Jihoon deflates, holding Soonyoung’s hand on the table. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

“Happy Valentine’s Day, too. Listen, I’m really sorry for not telling you about the fight Seokmin and I had. I know you’re close to him, and I didn’t want to stress you out.”

Jihoon nods. “It’s okay. But make it up to Seokmin soon, okay?”

“I will,” Soonyoung says.

After eating their lunch (seafood pasta with over the top anchovies) and leaving a tip to the waiter, they commute home, walking down the streets with their hands entwined. Jihoon doesn’t think of anything after that.

 

 

 

 

 

Wordlessly, they fall into a lazy day despite the occurrence of an unofficial holiday. Jihoon cooks some popcorn, leaning against the edge of the counter, boring holes to the microwave. Soonyoung scavenges through his old DVD collection, blowing dust off of each cover (he sneezes a bunch after, earning yells of ‘God bless you’s from Jihoon.)

As expected, they watch Star Wars. Soonyoung’s favorite. Jihoon doesn’t even bother arguing for another movie, because to some extent, he likes the concept and the artistry of it, and of course, the twinkle in Soonyoung’s eyes.

For one, Soonyoung is a 5th dan taekwondo master, a dancer, and once a radio DJ. He likes orange juice packs, and loves Star Wars to death. He sleeps on the right side of the bed, slightly snores, and would go as far as to wake up during midnight to get himself an orange juice pack to satisfy his craving (he kisses Jihoon before doing so.) And Jihoon loves him. Loves him with all layers known and unknown.

Albeit the statement, the truth of it all, Jihoon wishes he could get to know him better. After the mini movie marathon, Soonyoung carries to Jihoon to bed, suggesting a siesta. Jihoon obliges without a word.

 

They both wake up a little after 7’oclock in the evening. They stayed like full quotation marks enveloped around each other, playing with each other’s hands.

“I met Junhui earlier,” Jihoon starts. “He’s your boss, right?”

“Mhmm,” Soonyoung throws an arm over his stomach, pulling him closer for a tighter cuddle. “Why?”

“Nothing,” Jihoon says, voice raspy from hours of sleep. “Which reminds me, why haven’t you invited me to one of your dance showcases?”

“You don’t need to go to them, Jihoon,” Soonyoung mumbles firmly.

“But I want to,” Jihoon insists. “I haven’t seen you dance.”

“I’ll just video the performance and show it to you. How’s that?”

Jihoon sits up, dragging his slippers to his feet. He pushes Soonyoung’s dangling arm away. Soonyoung notices the change of mood, so he stands up as well and follows Jihoon to the kitchen.

“Is there something wrong?” Soonyoung asks.

“Why don’t you want me to see you dance?”

“I haven’t danced in showcases for years, Jihoon. If you’re going to watch me dance, then I’d prefer you see me in my best state,” he rests his hands on Jihoon’s shoulders. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s a shitty excuse,” Jihoon whispers. “Is there something wrong with me trying to know you better?”

“No, there’s not. It’s just—” he decisively runs to the rack beside the door. He takes both of their coats. “Do you _really_ want to know more about me?”

“What are you doing?”

Soonyoung throws him his coat. “We’re going for an adventure. Wear your coat.”

“Kwon Soonyoung, where are we going?”

Soonyoung purses his lips and takes a deep breath. “To my old university.”

 

 

***

 

“Before you panic, we’re not, in any way, trespassing,” Soonyoung assures, giving his hand a light squeeze. “The guard knows me.”

“You must’ve visited here a lot then,” Jihoon says, keeping up with Soonyoung’s steps, trying his best to not trip on the cobbled floor. They’re by the field fronting the main building, avoiding the automated water fountain attached to the ground.

“Nope,” Soonyoung shakes his head, grinning cheekily. “I just gave them a really hard time back then.” They step into the main entrance. There are still some students by the makeshift study hall, running on caffeine, flipping through stapled research papers. It’s quite lively for the time of the night.

“What were you like during college?”

 “A good-for-nothing alcoholic who smokes, parties a lot, doesn’t pass reports on time, and has tons of meaningless piercings. A frat boy basically.”

“That’s kind of harsh.”

“Is it now? That was how my first love described me as.”

Jihoon stiffens. He grimaces as if there’s a sudden competition. First love, huh. Soonyoung cups his face, “Jihoon, you promise you won’t run away?”

He stays silent.

“Because if not for my first love, then I wouldn’t be the person I am right now. And there isn’t any competition. I hope you wouldn’t feel that. I’m with you right now.”

Jihoon nods warily. “I won’t run away.”

Soonyoung smiles at him.

 

 

 

 

“That person…he was…how should I call it? _A little shit_. I hated him,” he bangs his hand on the long table, the sound resonating against the corners of the classroom. Jihoon sits on the teacher’s table, listening intently. “He sat right here. First row. The teacher’s favorite. He always had complete notes, always recited, and was always on time. No lates, no absences. I didn’t know why, but he just annoyed the hell out of me. Maybe because he was everything I _needed_ to be back then.”

He continues, “one day, the professor assigned us as groupmates. Of course, I was pissed. I didn’t pass my report on time because of that. And you know what he did? He followed me all the way to a frat party, asking me for my research. In the end, I didn’t get to pass it to him, not because I didn’t do it— _no_ , I did it right after I got home, half-drunk—it was because he did all the reports by himself. We almost failed in our group presentation, but by some miracle, we pulled through,” he walks towards Jihoon, brushing his bangs thereafter. “I felt really guilty then. So I hung out with him every break. Tried to. He hated me too, you know.”

“I think you’re the little shit for not passing that report on time,” Jihoon comments. “You’re unbelievable.”

Soonyoung laughs. “What gives. He said the exact same thing.”

 

 

 

 

“We used to eat here all the time. He used to bring packed lunches for thriftiness. He has a part-time job, you see. I went to his workplace almost every other day. I realized I liked him earlier than I thought. He worked in a bubble tea shop.”

“You loved him,” Jihoon says, scratching the stone bench. He tries his best to hold Soonyoung’s gaze, to not show any kind of inhibition, because Soonyoung can easily see right through him. He wants to run away.

“More than life itself,” Soonyoung replies, staring ahead. Jihoon blinks away the pricking tears. In the end, it fell, but he doesn’t wipe it away, because if he did, then Soonyoung would notice.

“He must be really lucky then.”

Soonyoung stands up. “Come on, there’s one last place I want to show you.”

The taller takes his hand once again, guiding him through twists and turns. He says, “I stopped going to parties after we got together. I stopped drinking and smoking, too, because he didn't like the smell of booze and tobacco. Especially when we kiss. We lived together.”

“Here,” Soonyoung gently pushes him down the swing. “My old frat raised charity for a swing for some reason, so.”

“It’s nice,” Jihoon comments, but something else distracts him. Soonyoung sits on the other swing. “Soonyoung? How long did you two date?”

“Three years,” Soonyoung answers honestly. “I proposed, but then…”

Jihoon turns away, leaning his cheek against the galvanized chain. Soonyoung continues, “I had to go to Japan. That’s another story, though.”

“Soonyoung,” says Jihoon, his voice low and quiet. “Do you still love him?”

Soonyoung kneels before him, wiping his tears away with the pad of his thumb. “I love you now.”

“You can’t love me, Soonyoung,” Jihoon whispers. He stands up, “let’s stop this. Let’s go home.”

Soonyoung follows after him, gripping his wrist. “I told you to not run away.”

“What do you want me to do?” Jihoon asks, his voice tired. He’s crying now, trying to catch his breath with every heave. “It’s obvious that you still love that guy. _Jesus_ , you proposed to him.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Soonyoung starts explaining. “I showed you and told you all about this, because I thought you’d—” he licks his lips. “Jihoon, look at me. I love you, and I know you love me, too.”

“Soonyoung, I…I have amnesia,” he finally admits. He bows his head down, ready to accept the blow. A long stretch of silence reigns between them, leaving him no choice but to accept it as an answer.

But Soonyoung breathes, “so?”

Jihoon looks up at him. “What do you mean?”

“So what if you have amnesia? That doesn’t change anything. You’re still Jihoon.”

“What if my old self comes back? Would you still love me the same?” Jihoon gulps, hands hanging loosely on Soonyoung’s grip. “In all honesty, I’m done with the therapies, done with remembering who I was before. But then you came along and suddenly all of those thoughts are back. I don’t know how to clearly express the matters of the heart, Soonyoung, but _fuck_. I love you so much. And it hurts.”

“Then be with me. Stay with me.”

“What if your ex comes back?” Jihoon mumbles against his shoulder, his arms finding its way around Soonyoung’s waist.

“Even if it was any other person, I’d still choose you over and over again,” he faces him. “Jihoon, I will love all of you.”

Soonyoung kisses him then—a silent promise. He pours unspoken words to his lips as if to articulate that he didn’t need to worry about anything, because it was him who he held, who he kisses every morning and every night. It’s Valentine’s Day and Jihoon decides it wasn’t that much of a lazy day.

 

***

 

_College, freshman year_

“Wouldn’t it be nice to have a swing right here?”

“Jihoon, this is a university. You’d only find that in primary schools,” Soonyoung says, trailing behind him, chomping on the ice cream cone in his hand.

“Yeah, but still. I’ve always dreamt of getting proposed at in front of a swing.”

Soonyoung frowns at him. “You’re so weird. Why a swing?”

“My Dad proposed to my Mom in front of a swing,” says Jihoon. “She told me all about it this weekend. For the first time. I know they’re going through a lot, but I hope—if I get proposed to in front of a swing—things would turn out differently for me.”

“I’ll buy you a swing, then,” Soonyoung declares. “And I’d propose to you right then and there.”

Jihoon chuckles, raising his eyebrows. “You’re not even my boyfriend yet.”

“But you already know that I love you.”

_And I know that you love me, too._

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chap is kind of short?? but yey I hope you guys enjoyed the chapter!!!
> 
>  
> 
> :^) :^) :^)


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> blood tw

Jihoon saw it coming.

It’s as expected as it can get, considering the fact that they had slept with each other the first time they properly met. Not much has changed in that wise, since Soonyoung still rimmed like a god, and fucked him like a champion. And _no,_ Jihoon’s not complaining _._ Sex with Soonyoung is amazing, exhilarating, and without negative intent— _tiring_. There’s a reason why.

“Where the fuck do you get all your stamina?” Jihoon asks, slumping down beside him, resting his head on his arm. Soonyoung pulls him closer. The room reeks of sex and sweat, covered by their superfluous panting.

“Wanna go for another round, baby?” Soonyoung flips his position, eyes glinting with the hopes of another escapade, holding up a finger (it went through depths inside of him, once coated by his saliva and lube. Jihoon gulps.)

“No way, I’m going to pass out. Why don’t you try cumming three times straight in one night?” Jihoon retorts dragging the soiled blanket up to his chest. He’ll just clean it the next morning. “And I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t be able to walk properly tomorrow. How am I going to go to work and save the economy through invisible hands?”

“It’s not exactly invisible hands if you already know what you’re doing,” Soonyoung mumbles, “ _capitalists._ I was a business major, too, you know.”

“Alright, smarty pants,” he pecks his chin. “Go to sleep. We both have work tomorrow.”

“But we only had two rounds!”

“Just wait until my next day off. I can go until three. Or four. You can fuck me all day then.”

“Holy shit,” Soonyoung breathes, squeezing his eyes shut. “How do you expect to sleep after hearing that?”

Jihoon hums, nuzzling closer to his boyfriend. “Patience is a virtue. Goodnight, babe.”

“How’d you know you can go until four rounds? Have you tried it before?”

“Goodnight,” Jihoon sing-songs.

 

 

 

 

 

“So…how many times have you done it?”

Jihoon sighs, placing his chopsticks beside his plate. It’s early in the morning, and he can’t quite decipher why Soonyoung’s acting like this, staring at anything but him, playing with the omurice he prepared. A part of him understands his sentiments though. It’s not so long ago that they’ve made things official, but out of curiosity and a whole lot of saving, he asks, “why are you so interested about my sex history? It’s not like I ask you about yours.”

“ _Well_ ,” Soonyoung folds his hands together. “I’ll have you know that I haven’t done it for the past four years.”

Jihoon barks out a laugh. “You’re lying.”

“I’m not lying,” Soonyoung persists. “What about you? Answer honestly.”

“Okay,” he pauses, counting numbers in his head. He mumbles under his breath, losing count, having his fingers start all over again. Soonyoung’s scandalized.

“I feel like I don’t want to know anymore.”

Jihoon nods, putting his hands down. He finishes his iced tea, placing the empty glass on top of his plate. “Yeah, you shouldn’t,” he places the dirty utensils on the sink. “Besides, past is past.”

“Okay, but have you done it with someone you know that I know?”

Jihoon takes his coat on the breakfast counter. “Oh, would you look at the time! I have to go to work.”

Soonyoung, in the speed of light, grabs his arms and calls firmly, “Jihoon.”

There’s no point in hiding. “Fine, I have,” he brushes past him, taking the necktie conveniently placed on the clothing rack. “Happy?”

“With who?”

“Do you really want to know?” Jihoon challenges, doing his own tie.

Soonyoung crosses his arms. “Yes.”

Jihoon takes tentative steps towards him, wrapping his arms around Soonyoung’s waist. “With Seokmin. But hey— _hey_ , don’t look at me like that.”

He can’t exactly pinpoint the shift in Soonyoung’s expression, but if anything, he looked anything but pleased. Jihoon then tells him, “listen to me. It’s all in the past. No need to fuss about it,” he gives his hand a squeeze. “I have to go now, and oh! Before I forget—”

Soonyoung raises his eyebrows. Jihoon purses his lips, “you don’t need to pick me up later.”

“Why?”

“It’s…” he tries to mull his words carefully, “it’s Seokmin’s birthday today, and I have to pay him a visit.”

Soonyoung murmurs, his tone curt, every syllable clipped, “it’s okay. Have fun.”

“Just because you two are in bad terms doesn’t mean I have to avoid him, Soonyoung,” Jihoon stands on his tippy toes and pecks Soonyoung on the lips. “Okay, I _really_ have to go. I love you, okay? I’ll call you.”

 

***  


Like Seungcheol, he doesn’t knock when he barges inside his best friend’s office. Albeit the rare disruption, it lands at the exact time Seungcheol reached for Jeonghan’s fly.

Jeonghan swats his fiancé’s hand away, reminding him of the restriction he put him on for a month. Jihoon wonders what kind of restriction it was, but his money’s on the ‘no booty’ platform. He wants to give Jeonghan a high-five, and torment Seungcheol for the suffering he’s going through (as if the black eye his boyfriend gave him wasn’t enough.) But he went here for an entirely different reason.

“Jihoonie! What brought you here?” asks Jeonghan, gesturing him to sit on the couch opposite him, Seungcheol leaning on the side of it.

“Yeah, it’s not so usual for you to come here,” Seungcheol says.

“So,” Jihoon starts, fidgeting in his seat. “Soonyoung and I are official now.”

Jeonghan and Seungcheol jump from their positions, subsequently asking inevitable questions like, ‘ _How? When? Where?’_ but Jihoon puts a hand up, statement unfinished. “But—” he clenches his fist. “I may or may not have developed an inferiority complex to a person I’ve never met.”

“What? Why is that? Who?” Jeonghan and Seungcheol ask—in synch. Jihoon finds it almost scary.

“So we got together during Valentine’s Day. He brought me to his old university, and told me about his college sweetheart,” he licks his lips. “He even told me how he proposed.”

Jeonghan and Seungcheol stare at each other before turning to Jihoon, “you know, Jihoon,” Jeonghan sits on the edge of the couch, more or less about to hug him. “Soonyoung loves you through and through.”

“I know and I love him, too, but I can’t help but think of his ex? I don’t know,” he stands up. “I’m sorry, I just needed to let this out. I’m going out early.”

“Isn’t Soonyoung going to pick you up?”

Jihoon shakes his head. “Nope, I’m going to spend my afternoon with Seokmin. It’s his birthday, so. It’s kind of a ritual. We’ve been celebrating together for the past four years.”

“Take care, then. Say ‘hi’ to Seokmin for me.” Jeonghan leads him to the door, Seungcheol following behind them. Jihoon nods. Before he could step out of Seungcheol’s office, the CEO grabs his arm and says, his voice low. Almost sad. “You don’t need to worry about Soonyoung’s ex. He’s gone.”

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Happy Birthday!”

Seokmin blinks at him, hair disheveled, the collar of his shirt hanging all the way to the ends of his shoulder. For some reason, Jihoon knows of his sleeping schedule; the fact that he has night shifts in the radio station says so much already. Seokmin blinks once again, eyes shifting to the box of mango cake Jihoon held. It’s his favorite.

“What?” he dumbly replies, absent-mindedly making entry for Jihoon.

Jihoon brings out his phone, holding up the calendar application. “February 18, Seokmin’s birthday. Did you forget again?”

Seokmin clears his throat, squinting at the unacquainted brightness of Jihoon’s phone as if the late sun didn’t filter his windows. He rubs his nose, red and runny from the colds he recently caught (probably from the new DJ in the station.) “Oh. _Oh_. I mean, I didn’t forget that my birthday is on February 18. I just didn’t know it was today.”

“Well, congratulations for being older,” Jihoon says, opening Seokmin’s refrigerator, placing the cake on the middle tray, saving it for later tonight. “And you have me for the whole day.”

“Honestly, I didn’t think you’d come,” Seokmin scratches the back of his head, leaning against the post of his kitchen, shoulders digging onto the framed cartooned monkey Yuna bought him a few weeks back. “Thought you’d be busy.”

“Well, I’m not. And I haven’t been for the past years.”

“No, I mean—busy with things other than work.”

“You mean, _Soonyoung?”_

Seokmin purses his lips, nodding slowly. He lets out a small chuckle. “Yeah. With Soonyoung.”

“I know you two fought,” Jihoon says, crossing his arms. “Hansol told me.”

“ _Hey,_ ” he points a finger to him. “Don’t mention that name in this household. Not after what he did to Seungkwan.”

Jihoon shuts his mouth. It’s Hansol’s birthday, too, and Jihoon remembers Seungkwan’s early planning for it, since it fell a few days after Valentine’s Day. He also remembers Jisoo’s casual statements about it when he used to do therapies under him. Jihoon sighs, opting to revert the topic back to a safer ground, something he can handle. “Anyway, I’m glad _that person_ told me about it. Now explain.”

“You don’t need to worry about it, okay?” Seokmin reasons. “It’s between me and Soonyoung.”

“I am involved. Kind of. You two fought because of me,” Jihoon takes a step closer. “Tell me, why did you set the two of us up?”

“He needed an apartment to live in and you needed a spacer. I just happen to know the both of you. As simple as that.”

Jihoon squints his eyes at Seokmin, who stared back down at him with the same will. He lets it go, then slightly pushing the taller off. “Okay, fine. And please take a bath. I’m not going anywhere near you with that smell.”

“Thanks, I’m really flattered,” Seokmin smiles at him, tiredness going off the gauge. “So, Mr. Lee, what do you have in store for me today?”

Jihoon replies, “I should be the one asking you that. Where do you want to go today? Something cheap, okay? But expensive could work, too. I just had my pay.”

“I love birthdays,” Seokmin says. “Okay, I’m going to wash up now.”

“Since when was the last time you washed up?”

Seokmin pads down to his bathroom and shouts, “two days!”

 

 

***

 

“Hey, man! What’s up? You look like you’ve been hit over by a truck,” Wonho, a veteran underground dancer few years older than him says, wrapping an arm around his shoulder, uncaring of the sweat-induced muscle tees sticking to their skins. Soonyoung glares at the caller ID flashing on his smartphone’s screen. He swipes the decline option.

“I’m fine, hyung,” Soonyoung replies, voice distant.

“Japanese?” Wonho asks, referring to the caller ID earlier. “You know Japanese?”

“Yeah, I used to live in Japan,” Soonyoung says. His phone flashes back to his wallpaper: a picture of Jihoon hugging a life-sized teddy bear—a toy Soonyoung had won for him in the arcade a few days ago.

“And who is this beauty?” Wonho raises his eyebrows, giving emphasis to every syllable. “Boyfriend?”

“Yeah. Boyfriend,” Soonyoung nods. On the other side of the practice room, the other dancers involve themselves in an impromptu freestyle competition, beats to an above average volume. A snapback flies to them a few seconds after.

“Hey kids, save energy!” Wonho yells, picking up the snapback. “We still have time to practice,” he shakes his head, turning back to Soonyoung, “hey, you’re really lucky to find yourself a pretty guy like this. Make sure you don’t let him slip away.”

Wonho then stands up after the quick general advice, leaning on his hand for support. He throws the snapback to Ten, a sweet, Thai boy who panted in the middle of the circle. Soonyoung finds it in himself to smile—but alas, it disappeared as soon as it came.

The practice lasted until the next hour. Soonyoung politely bids them goodbye, passing on the chance for free meat, care of Wonho’s wallet and outmost generosity as the team captain.

He then travels to the restaurant Jeonghan had instructed him to go, a brief text in lapslock with no emoticons. Soonyoung, without any choice really, obliges. Expectedly, it’s a fancy restaurant, one with suited up waiters and classical music playing in the background. It’s quite crowded with the promise of delicious meals, and Soonyoung trusts it, especially with the mix of Jeonghan’s credible recommendation. He plans on wolfing down with something more than a three-course meal. Jeonghan had promised to treat him.

He greets Jeonghan and a Seungcheol with a mumble, too tired to come up with a coherent speech. His sweat disperses under his jacket due to the stable ventilation of the restaurant. He hopes that it wouldn’t cause him a cough.

“What would you want to order, Soonyoungie?” Jeonghan asks, flipping through the menu.

“Just get me whichever,” Soonyoung says.

“Would a simple mushroom soup do?” Seungcheol asks.

“I hate you.”

Jeonghan rolls his eyes, then going off with the orders to the waiter beside them, hitting every pronunciation right. It all sounds foreign to Soonyoung’s ears.

Seungcheol pats him on the back. “Hey, kid. Chin up.”

Soonyoung tries. “If only it was that easy.”

Jeonghan’s always a step ahead for some reason, plausible with the fact that he’s just as overprotective as Soonyoung.

Soonyoung is uncharacteristically silent all throughout the dinner, excluding the parts where Jeonghan and Seungcheol encourage him to talk. Jeonghan is as understandable as ever, while Seungcheol lights up the mood with stories varying from work and business trips, telling jokes in between. It’s enough to tug a smile out of Soonyoung’s lips. But then—

“Auntie has been calling me,” Jeonghan says, his voice low.

“Don’t answer it,” Soonyoung says at once, stabbing the roasted chicken with a fork. He disheartens with the mention of his mother. “I’m dealing with so much already.”

“The thing is, I made a mistake to answer it. I didn’t know it was auntie,” Jeonghan folds his hands against the napkin, dabbing the sauce off his fingers. “ _Soonyoung?_ ”

Soonyoung slams the utensils down rather loudly, an off-beat interference with the Beethoven piece playing in the speakers. Jeonghan slightly jumps in his seat, while Seungcheol sat unfazed.

“I’m not going back to Japan,” Soonyoung says under his breath.

“I know, but Soonyoung—”

“I don’t care if I have a whole company waiting for me in Japan. I’m not going back there,” he dries his lips with a napkin. “I’ll get going now.”

“Sit back down, Soonyoung,” Seungcheol orders. “Listen to what we have to say.”

“Soonyoung, I’m just saying. You have a future there in Japan—”

“And what? I’ll leave Jihoon again?” Soonyoung takes a shaky breath. “You know, I thought everything would be fine if we get together, but then the reason why I had to leave him before is still… _there_. Existing. Pulling me apart from him.”

“But _this time_ it’s about your future. Soonyoung, you can’t be a taekwondo and dance teacher forever.”

Soonyoung runs his hand through his hair, gathering strands in between his fingers and palm. “I know, but I might as well be,” he stands up. “I didn’t expect this would happen, since they vowed to not treat me as their son anymore if I go back here in Korea. Do you have any idea how hard it was for me, hyung? Being homeschooled, learning a whole new language, being isolated in a huge ass mansion with no one to talk to. And on top of all that, I lived with the fact that the person I’ve only ever loved in my whole life didn’t remember me. So I’m not going back there. I have Jihoon with me now.”

He doesn’t stay long under the canopy of the restaurant. Instead, he runs despite the rain patting his body, soaking his clothes, defenseless without any form of makeshift shelter. He runs like he should’ve had years ago, when Jihoon crossed the street to get to him, to fulfill a promise. He runs like he should’ve had years ago, to save Jihoon.

 

***

_Four years ago_

“Dad?” Soonyoung clenches his fist under the table, nails digging his cargo pants. His lips tremble and his chest heaves. He swallows many years of pride down to his empty stomach.

“I have a business meeting later. Get straight to the point,” his Dad says through the screen, tie perfect, and suit crisp and proper. Behind him, the city lights of Tokyo shines, reflected from the window of his office, while Soonyoung sat idly in his dining room with unrelenting dimness.

“I don’t ask for much,” he starts carefully. “In fact, I don’t ask you anything at all, but—”

“Is it money?” his Dad asks. “Weren’t you the one who said you didn’t need us anymore?”

“It’s Jihoon,” Soonyoung bites his lower lip, his voice cracking. “H-He got into a car accident, and he needs to be transferred to a much more efficient hospital. They say the top doctors in our country work there.”

“Lee Jihoon, huh? Your boyfriend? Your Mom told me all about it,” his Dad says, eyebrows pondering along with the purse of his lips. “And if he doesn’t get transferred?”

“Then there’s a bigger chance he’d—” he couldn’t say it. Because if he did, then the idea would come along with it. “ _I’ll do anything_.”

“Okay, I’ll pay for his hospital fees,” his Dad says decisively, nodding firmly, but there’s another ring to his tone. “I’ll pay for his hospital fees, his medicines, and all the therapies he needs even after the confinement. No need to say more.”

“Thank you,” Soonyoung breathes. “ _Dad, tha—_ ”

“But you have to go back and live here in Japan with me and your Mom.”

Soonyoung takes a deep breath. He knew of the condition beforehand, prepared himself for it. He thinks of Jihoon, his small, fragile stature on the hospital bed, bandages wrapped around his head, and the weak beating of his heart. He thinks of him, his future, of what he can see more with his eyes if he opens it—Lee Jihoon deserves the world. He deserves to live. But Soonyoung doesn’t deserve him.

“はい、分かりました。( _Yes, I understand._ )”

“じゃあ、解決されました。友達にさよならを言うために、一週間を与えています。ジフンにも。おやすみ、スニョン。また会おう。( _Then, it's settled. I'm giving you one week to say goodbye to your friends. To Jihoon too. Goodnight, Soonyoung. See you soon._ )”

Soonyoung stands in the middle of the hallway, clutching an envelop full of cash against his two-year old jacket, unaccustomed to the touch of laundry for about three weeks already. It doesn’t reek though—in fact it’s bathed with strong men’s perfume, and with its exposure to Jihoon’s hospital room, it started smelling like the clean bedsheets, too.

Yoongi stands before him, clenching his fists. Wordlessly, he bows and extends his two arms, offering the cash to him. His grip shakes, slightly crumpling the paper in the process. And for a moment, there was silence. He hears footsteps after.

Yoongi takes him by the collar and punches him square on the mouth. He tastes something metallic on his tongue then. He’s bleeding. And it should be an instinct for him to fight back, considering how it had always been a natural reply whenever someone would throw him a fist during his taekwondo competitions, and when he involves himself in petty fights during high school. But he stands there, unmoving, letting Yoongi throw him another punch, blowing him all the way to the floor. He faces the tiles, coughing, curling his arm, knees slipping from trying to stand on his two feet. If someone—Jimin specifically—didn’t whisper a hushed ‘stand up’ while gently supporting him by the arm and back, then maybe he would’ve stayed lying on the floor.

“Do you—” Yoongi grits his teeth together. “Think that your fucking money can solve everything?”

“Yoongi, stop,” Jimin says, his voice trembling, standing in front of Soonyoung. “He’s just as hurting as we are.”

“Really?” Yoongi’s crying now. He points to the door of Jihoon’s hospital room. “My little brother is right there dying. He could die the next fucking day and he could die right now. He could have comatose for many fucking years! All of his hopes and dreams _gone_ ,” he then shifts his finger at Soonyoung. “And it’s all because of this guy.”

“It’s okay,” Soonyoung finally finds his voice. “You can punch me all you want, hurt me all you want. I deserve it anyway.”

Before Yoongi could strike him, Jimin encages him, using all of his strength to hold Yoongi’s hands down against his back. Yoongi trashes under his grip, gradually losing strength second by second—and he’s still crying, his face red, trying to find air. He screams, “J-Jihoon’s the only family I have,” the last word strains and he doesn’t struggle against Jimin’s grip anymore. He falls to his knees, punching the floor until his knuckles turned red. “H-he’s the o-only f-f-family I have,” he repeats, louder this time, gripping his own hair. “Our Dad’s never home and our Mom just killed herself yesterday after visiting Jihoon. _J-Jihoon’s the only family I have._ ”

Soonyoung does a full bow then, knees, hands and head on the floor, repeating ‘I’m sorry.’ And he should stay there forever, though he doubts it’d cover anything.

He leaves for Japan a few days after without saying any goodbyes, not even to Seungcheol nor Jeonghan, nor to the guard he made acquaintance with in the university, nor to the nice, old lady by the receptionist desk of his dorm building. Jimin though, he begs him to take the money, which makes him the last person in Korea he talked to.

He doesn’t say goodbye. Not even to Jihoon.

 

***

 

What Wonho said earlier to him might be from pure coincidence, but the reminder of it rings inside his head alarmingly—scary even. _Don’t let him slip away_. 

It’s still raining, loud pitter-patters against all the surfaces of Seoul. He stands in front of the apartment complex, rigid and freezing. Jihoon stands with Seokmin a few feet away, but both aren't facing him, since they were hugging each other by the main entrance of the building. The handle of Seokmin’s umbrella digs onto Jihoon’s back.  

Seokmin then lifts his head and sees him. He whispers something to Jihoon afterwards, which made the latter turn to him just as immediately with a small, genuine smile as a greeting. Jihoon waves goodbye to Seokmin after, staying under the elongated sign of the complex, free from the rain. Seokmin hesitantly disappears by the other corner after a slight nod directed towards him.

“Soonyoung!” Jihoon shouts, muffled by the sound of pitter-patters. “Come here! What are you doing there?”

Soonyoung stays still, afraid to take even a step towards Jihoon. He’s scared, scared of so many things, and he doesn’t know what to do about it. Jihoon looks so beautiful, glowing, putting the sun to shame. And he’s so fucking scared of losing him, of being away from him.

Jihoon runs to him then, creating small splashes with his feet. He tries to cover his head with his two hands, but of course, to no avail, it didn’t really do so much. He puts his arms down, and reaches for hold Soonyoung’s hands.

“Soonyoung, you’re gonna get sick if you stay there any longer.”

Soonyoung places his forehead against Jihoon’s. “Don’t worry, I have a strong immune system.”

 

 

***

 

Months pass consisting of Jihoon and Soonyoung, and Soonyoung and Jihoon. They tangle under fine bed sheets in the morning, and make love to each other by night. They do groceries, play by the arcade as if they were kids, and kiss each other whenever—even when Soonyoung massages his hair with shampoo.

“I should buy more strawberries,” Jihoon says, eating the said fruit accompanied by a yogurt with the same flavor. He sits comfortably on Soonyoung’s lap. “What do you think?”

“They’re in season right now, so I think you should buy lots of them,” Soonyoung replies, putting down his mug (it says _Best Daddy in The World_ , a gift Jihoon had bought for him not so long ago. He choked on his own saliva then.)

Jihoon buries his head on the crook of Soonyoung’s next. “I don’t feel like going to work today.”

Soonyoung dramatically gasps. “Am I really hearing this from Mr. Workaholic Lee Jihoon? Who are you and what did you do to my boyfriend?”

“I just want to cuddle with—” he points to the mug. “The _Best Daddy in The World_.”

Soonyoung groans. “Don’t call me that,” he then adds, “it makes me…blush?”

Jihoon playfully slaps him on the chest. “You like it.”

“Anyway,” Soonyoung laughs, putting his arm under the back of Jihoon’s knee, then standing up to carry him bridal style. “You, sir, need to go to work,” he puts him down in front of the door, handing him his suit and coat.

Jihoon glares at him. “Pick me up at seven.”

“As always, babe,” he gives him a peck. “Besides, we can’t cuddle the whole day. I’m going out somewhere.”

“Okay,” Jihoon nods. “One more kiss?”

The ‘one more kiss’ turns into a make out session on the door, Jihoon gripping his arm, leg hiking up onto his hips until the taller lifted him. Soonyoung tilts his head for a better angle, then dragging his lips down to the expanse of Jihoon’s neck.

“Fuck, wait,” Soonyoung pants, carefully putting Jihoon down. “Work. You need to work.”

“Okay,” Jihoon clears his throat. “ _Okay_.”

Soonyoung chuckles, “okay. Be safe on the way. I love you.”

Jihoon nods, laughing along with him. “I love you, too.”

 

 

 

 

“Hyung?”

Jihoon looks up from his computer, cracking his knuckles with the sound of Seungkwan’s voice. “Hm? Come in.”

Jihoon frowns. “What’s _that?”_

“Strawberry cheesecake!” Seungkwan claps his hands together. “Do you like it?”

Jihoon smiles gratefully. “Yes, I do. Thank you, Seungkwan.”

“It’s a thank you gift,” Seungkwan says, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Thank you for giving me advice.”

“How’s me smacking you on the back of your head an advice?”

“Maybe your fist knocked some sense into my brain?” Seungkwan lightly teases, grinning widely. “Anyway, while you were smacking my head, you actually did say an advice.”

Jihoon hums. “And how are you now?”

“Better,” Seungkwan says with relief. “I realized I was being unfair to myself, and besides, Dr. Hong is a lovely person. And in some way, Hansol is, too. Kind even.”

“Wow, you could say that after what he did to you?”

“Yes, because I did love him, too.”

Jihoon pats him on the back. “I’m very proud of you. Huh, I remember like it was just yesterday when you were complaining about the Christmas Committee.”

“Yeah,” Seungkwan laughs. “Like it was just yesterday.”

Seungkwan then takes his leave with that polite and cheery smile of his’, wishing him a nice afternoon. Jihoon grimaces a little, because underneath the joy he’s trying to emit, the more sadness comes out. In all honesty, he couldn’t imagine how Seungkwan’s coping, but at the end of the day, all he could do is to wish his friend well.

Their story ends like that.

Jihoon releases a deep breath then, rubbing his eyes, twisting his back. He wills himself to get back to work to finish yet another data, but then his phone rings, his brother’s caller ID flashing on the screen.

“Hyung?”

Phenomena are things that often occurs in life, albeit it’s not always something people can understand. This may be a phenomenon: losing someone or something important in your life without definitive dates, without any warning. It happens every day, be it to people who loses their cat the next morning, or to the next person who just got dumped from a promising date. And to him, losing his memories should’ve been the most painful thing to ever happen to him, but as time goes by, as love grows in his heart, he learns that it wasn’t. Losing people was. Jihoon’s phone slips from his hand.

_“Jimin is gone.”_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- I stayed up until 6 am finishing this chapter hahahahahaha  
> \- also, if you found the jisol/verkwan solution rather vague, you could say that I was exactly for that, since _it's up to you readers if you want to forgive hansol or not_  
>  \- much love to ate aiavena (on twt) for translating some dialogues into Japanese for me! I love u!!!


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> t/w: smoking, drinking
> 
> !!!!pls read the end notes!!!!

_College, junior year_

 

“Hey, no need to be nervous,” Jihoon says, clasping his hand. Soonyoung clears his throat under the light of the canopy, sniffing in a little of Busan’s air. “Do I look okay?”

“You look fine,” Jihoon assures, eyeing Soonyoung’s simple white t-shirt and cargo pants—a totally different style—considering his collection of muscle tees, snapbacks, sweatbands and ripped jeans. Jihoon doesn’t really care about his boyfriend’s fashion sense, and the only time he actually did was whenever Soonyoung would take it off, throwing his band shirt to the ground, running his hands all over his thighs. “You look really handsome. You’ll do just fine.”

“I hope,” Soonyoung breathes. His henna tattoo for the week peeks out from the end of his sleeve. “Your brother hates me. He might castrate me the moment I step inside your house.”

“For the record, only my brother hates you. My Mom loves you and you’re like my Dad’s favorite soccer game watching buddy.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods, gulping. “I’ll be in my best behavior, I promise.”

“I know you will be,” says Jihoon. “I don’t get why you’re so nervous.”

“It’s like last year’s Christmas all over again,” Soonyoung feels his stomach churn. He had spent the holiday with the Lee’s (and a Park) laughing over pork bellies and Jihoon’s childhood pictures. His boyfriend’s parents weren’t exactly fond of him then, especially when he made quite the ruckus in their kitchen and when he came out as ‘too aggressive’ with his piercings and way of clothing. Almost like a bad influence. “I took out some of my piercings already, but I can’t take the one off my scaffold since I just had it a week ago. It’s going to hurt if I did and—”

“I love you,” Jihoon says abruptly but sincerely. “I love you so much. With or without piercings. You make me so happy and my family can see that. You’re more than enough, okay?”

“I love you, too. I just want our whole stay here to be perfect. For you.”

Jihoon laughs lightly, his hand ghosting over the doorbell. “Just stay away from the kitchen then.”

 

 

 

_“Son, why are you so nervous? We already told you to feel at home!”_

_“Ma’am, Sir, I want to ask for your blessing. I want to marry your son.”_

***

 

“What’s this?”

Soonyoung doesn’t turn around. He rests his arms by the flat surface of the edge of the rooftop, a lit cigarette in between his fingers. “Peace offering,” he simply says, eyes darting to the bottles of soju he prepared on the floor.

Seokmin scoffs, mumbling, “and you even bought the most expensive brand. Aren’t you broke?”

Soonyoung finally faces him, blowing smoke. “I wish,” he takes the pack of Marlboro in his pocket and throws it to Seokmin. He sits with the soju bottles then, reaching for the opener. “What took you so long? Morning shifts in the station aren’t usually a hassle.”

“I wasn’t at the morning shift,” Seokmin replies, now sitting in front of him. Soonyoung offers him a drink. “Yuna’s students had a ballet show. She invited me to watch, so I did—” he takes a sip. “And by the way, I don’t smoke anymore.”

Soonyoung stares at him, “for how long?”

“A week,” Seokmin says. He bites his lip in frustration as if the pack of Marlboro is the real subject of the whole set-up, not Soonyoung. He eventually takes a drag. “But we all know that’s bullshit—” he instinctively catches the lighter Soonyoung throws him. “How about you? Didn’t you stop?”

Soonyoung leans over to take his smoke of the day, lifting his foot to crush the used drag on the floor, bits of its ashes flying off from the wind. Seokmin lights the smoke up for him. “Yeah, Jihoon got me to stop. For three years at that. But then I got to Japan and everything just threw itself out of the window, like I died and started over again—back to square one.”

The mention of Jihoon ignites a stir in their atmosphere; it’s too early to call it tension, but it’s enough impact to make Seokmin whistle albeit smugly, putting down the bottle of expensive soju. “Jihoon, huh.”

“Yeah,” Soonyoung nods firmly. “Jihoon.”

“What are you gonna do now? Punch me?”

“If I wanted to, then I would’ve long ago, the moment you stood five feet away from me. But I didn’t. I even bought these for you,” Soonyoung explains, drag in between his lips. He takes it off and blows another smoke. “Actually, I’m here to thank you.”

“Wow,” Seokmin says, crossing his legs. “You know, Soonyoung, you haven’t changed at all—drinking and smoking early in the morning, being a douchebag to everyone but Jihoon—” he hits him on the shoulder, “but if there’s one significant moral you’ve developed, it’s lowering a bit of your pride down. I’m proud.”

“You were there for him when I wasn’t,” says Soonyoung simply.

“Hey,” Seokmin grins. “Let’s not punch each other again.”

And they make up like that; it’s just the right amount of apology, a norm they’ve developed ever since college. Both of them aren’t fond of sorry’s anyway, even if it went both ways—Seokmin especially. And Soonyoung adjusts, gifts him peace offerings. Seokmin is his best friend. He understands.

“Since when did you stop smoking?” Soonyoung asks. They’ve been talking for a while now, catching up and joking around. Seokmin’s shift in the radio station is only a few minutes away from now, so he stops drinking and kicks the pack of Marlboro away, all the way to the fence.

“Yuna doesn’t like it when I smoke,” he mumbles, smiling to himself. “She’s amazing, that woman.”

“That’s nice,” Soonyoung smiles against the rim of the soju. “She’s liked you ever since college—”

“What?”

Soonyoung frowns. “What do you mean ‘what’? You didn’t know?”

Seokmin shakes his head. “No…”

“Oh,” Soonyoung blinks. “ _Oh_.”

“Are you fucking serious?”

“Well, uh,” he clears his throat, remembering the time when he and Yuna became partners for their Economics project. _I like your best friend, but he likes someone else._ “I thought you knew.”

“I didn’t.”

Soonyoung pats him on the back, slightly guilty for exposing such a thing. “Now you do,” he continues, “the question is: what will you do with the information?”

“Wow, you’re a love guru now?”

“DJ Hoshi makes a comeback,” says Soonyoung, chuckling. He taps his fingers against the neck of the bottle, sniffing his own shoulder, smelling of booze and smoke. He reminds himself to drink coffee later to alleviate the odor. There’s a stretch of silence then: full of ponder, a variety of realization. He thinks of Jihoon. “No, seriously, you learn a lot when you’ve loved two different people in one person.”

“You really—” Seokmin he pauses. “You really…do love him, huh?”

“I do,” Soonyoung replies. “ _Do you?”_

“Not anymore,” Seokmin answers honestly. Soonyoung raises his eyebrows. “The last time we slept together—”

“ _What?”_

“The last time we slept together,” Seokmin continues, ignoring Soonyoung’s scandalous gasp. “That was when I suggested you to his apartment. Because I felt like if he found you and you found him, you two would be much happier. I had the intention of not talking to you and Jihoon anymore; it was more of a selfish decision. I was protecting myself from getting hurt.”

“I think it was a bit irrational of me to punch you then. I was mad, scared and unprepared. It was overwhelming too, because when I saw Jihoon again, it just…it felt so different. I felt like I was cheating. I’ve devoted myself to Jihoon for so long that I was almost scared of falling in love with another part of himself.”

“But you did anyway. In the end.”

“Seokmin,” Soonyoung says curtly with a tint of melancholy, staring at the ground, as if his own voice departed from him. “Take care of Jihoon.”

Seokmin scoffs loudly, his expression turning into a mix of worry and anger. “Soonyoung? What the fuck?”

“They want me back in Japan,” Soonyoung shakes his head, the tip of his tongue in between his teeth and inner cheek. “Fuck, right.”

“You never said goodbye, you know. You just disappeared for four years.”

“I had to or else Jihoon wouldn’t have had survived.”

“Didn’t Jimin hyung pay for his fees and transfer…” Seokmin trails off and just then, something clicks. “Wait, was that your…?”

“My parents’ money,” Soonyoung finishes for him. “I gave the money to Jimin hyung because Yoongi hyung wouldn’t accept it.”

“So that’s why,” Seokmin says. “ _Soonyoung_ , don’t go back to Japan. Jihoon’s okay now.”

“Of course I don’t want to leave. But it’s my parents and I—I don’t know what to do. They say their company is waiting for me, but in all honesty, I just—I really don’t know.”

“But you told me you owned a dance studio there? What happened to that?”

“I sold it to Momo. I used the money to fly back here,” Soonyoung sighs, briefly massaging the sides of his forehead. “I didn’t want to use my parents’ money and I want it to stay that way,” he stands up, dusting off his lap, placing his hands on his waist, stretching his back. Seokmin follows, carrying the plastic of leftover soju.

“You know the saying,” Soonyoung continues. “If you really do love someone—even if there are millions of reasons to leave, you would still find one to stay,” he bites his lower lip. “Maybe that’s a bit irrational, because there must be an explanation as to why you had millions of reasons to leave in the first place.”

Seokmin couldn’t find it in himself to reply, because he himself thinks such quotes like that were bullshit. A part of him is glad Soonyoung shares the same sentiments as him, even if it was directly related to Jihoon, the person he also fell in love with. He gets Soonyoung’s sacrifice, though he doubts his own was worth comparing to it. Soonyoung practically died for Jihoon, while he just waited by the sidelines.

“Anyway, man, I have to go,” Soonyoung holds up a fist. Seokmin takes it as a signal to do their signature handshake. They laugh, despite the short-coming, but at times like these, they needed it. Besides, there are no happy people. There are just happy times.

Seokmin walks him to the entrance and just when the both of them steps outside the station, Soonyoung phone rings, which left Seokmin to awkwardly stand there, timing for a proper goodbye.

“Cheol?”

“ _Is Jihoon with you?”_

Soonyoung frowns. “Isn’t he supposed to be there at work?”

 _“Fuck,”_ Seungcheol mutters. “ _Okay, don’t panic—”_

“What the fuck happened?” Soonyoung grits his teeth. “Where is he?”

_“Listen to me. He asked for a holiday. An entire week. He also left early for home and shit, he practically ran away. Jeonghan and I have been trying to contact him, but he’s not answ—”_

Soonyoung ends the call abruptly and turns to Seokmin. “I have to go.”

“What happened?”

“It’s Jihoon. Fuck, shit, I—” Soonyoung says in a hurry, feeling a rumble in his chest. “I have to go. I’ll text you.”

He doesn’t wait for Seokmin’s reply. He runs all the way to the end of the sidewalk, right where the main road was and hails for a cab. Once he got into the vehicle, he tells the driver to wait for a moment, and dials Jihoon’s number, tapping his feet in nervousness. The latter doesn’t answer the first time, but after a quick second call, he does, which surprised Soonyoung a bit. But if anything, he was glad. Soon, the relief wavers, because from the other end of the line, he hears a sniffle. Jihoon’s crying.

“Jihoon? Jihoon, where are you? Are you okay? What happened?” he implodes like a long-running time bomb on the edge of his seat, worry gnawing him alive.

 _“I’m at home,”_ Jihoon’s voice strains—cracks.

“Okay, okay, I’m on my way,” he briefly tells the driver the address. He then goes back to the line, “it’s going to be okay, baby. I’ll be there. Wait for me, okay?”

 _“Okay,”_ his voice was so small it fucking hurt his chest. _“Please come home quickly.”_

Jihoon then hangs up. Minutes later, thankfully, he reaches the apartment complex, hurriedly giving the driver the exact payment before going off to the lobby and then to the flight of stairs, running with vigor and panic bubbling up to his chest. The carpet floor resonates with his footsteps, and the moment he reached the door to their apartment, he punches in the code, hand gripping the knob before the machine could even approve the password.

A suitcase greets him by the living room. Jihoon’s all curled up by the edge, arm on the rest, staring off to space. Soonyoung’s heart sinks, staring back and forth to the suitcase and onto Jihoon. “Jihoon…” he starts, voice coming out smaller than he thought. The last syllable cracks in the end.

“Don’t come near me,” Jihoon says quietly. “Of all the days…”

“Jihoon, what’s happening? Are you—”

Jihoon cuts him off, tears streaming down his face. “I really want you to hug and kiss me right now, but you smell like alcohol and tobacco. I don’t want it to get on me.”

“Jihoon-ah…”

“Go take a bath first—” Jihoon’s breath hitches. And then he starts trembling, biting his lower lip that it almost bled. He covers his face with his hands, the ball of his palms against his eyes while his fingers gripped his bangs. He cries through short, quiet breaths, shoulders heaving. Soonyoung then takes tentative steps towards him, standing approximately two feet away—a considerable yet unbearable distance. He hopes just for this moment, Jihoon lets the regretful smell of tobacco slide.

He kneels right after Jihoon uncovers his face. Soonyoung conveys that of a sweet chaste kiss by pressing two fingers against his own lips, reaching to place it on Jihoon’s thereafter.

Jihoon kisses his fingers back.

 

 

***

 

 

“I’ve been best friends with Jimin ever since we were children,” the man starts, pursing his lips, voice wavering. He’s tall, lanky, his hair dyed at a ridiculous red. “And if you’re wondering why I look like McDonalds or that woman in the Wendy’s logo with this hair—” the audience laughs briefly, though it was more of a breathy sound than a whole one. “It’s because Jiminnie had always wanted me to dye my hair like this. My scalp hurts, though,” Jihoon could see it, how the man’s trying to be strong. “For those who don’t know, my name is Kim Taehyung. I’m usually latched onto him until Yoongi hyung glares at me. Or when my boyfriend does.

I don’t know how eulogies work. In fact, it’s the first time I’ve ever written a eulogy. It’s not an entirely pleasant feeling. But as Jiminnie would always say, _death and change are the only constant things in the world._ Every time he’d mention that quote, I would always laugh at him and tell him, ‘ew, you’re becoming like Namjoon hyung.’ Though, during those moments, I would always think—I can’t wait to grow old with Jiminnie. Maybe by then, we’d play bingo and complain about our lovers. Maybe we’d look back at our high school and college days together. Or better yet, our primary school days. I’d tease him how quick he fell for the guy who pushed him off the tire swing when we were six.”

Yoongi lets out a shaky breath, thumb and index finger on the opposite ends of his forehead. He clenches his eyes shut, tears streaming down his cheeks. Taehyung tries to not look at Yoongi, because for sure, if he sees him, he’d cry right then and there by the small podium. “A-and he’d tease me how quick I fell for a rich, stuck-up bastard when we were in college, who’s like two years younger than me, by the way,” he clears his throat. “Jimin and I would share everything together. From our band t-shirts to our deepest secrets. He was like my brother, like my other half. We were partners-in-crime. But the only secret he didn’t tell me was when he developed a tumor in his brain. I only knew about it last month, when he had been diagnosed with it for about a year already. Jimin-ah, don’t you know? A lot of people love you, a lot of people want to share burdens with you,” he bites his inner cheek, his hands trembling as he flipped the page. “Jimin-ah, you made the world much brighter…”

Jihoon wipes his tears away. Soonyoung squeezes his hand.

Taehyung makes it to the end of his eulogy without breaking down. But the moment he stepped away from the platform, he stumbles, as if the pins and needles dipped themselves onto water. A dark-haired guy catches him though, steadying his stance. Taehyung sobs then.

It was Yoongi’s turn to read the eulogy. He doesn’t walk that far, since he—along with Jihoon and Soonyoung—sat by the front row. Yoongi laids out his crumpled speech by the surface of the podium, adjusting the mic right where his mouth can reach it. “Hello, I’m Yoongi,” he starts simply. “I’ve known Jimin ever since I was eight. At twenty-seven, we got married. I’m at my thirties now, though I won’t be specific with my age. Besides, it’s just a number,” he chuckles and so do they. “Our hometown is by the sea. Instead of buses, we ride our Dad’s boat just to get our primary school. You see, our school’s playground only had one tire swing. It’s easy to reach, but when you get swung to the other end, it’s almost as if you’re flying. Every kid wanted to try that tire swing of course, so basically that was kind of like our Hunger Games—” the audience laughs. “My little brother Jihoon loved that swing more than he loved his action figurines,” Jihoon chokes a sob, burying his head by the crook of Soonyoung’s neck. “As a child, Jihoon would always get sick, and because of that, he didn’t get to attend school that much. But when he does, he would always ride that swing. So I, as a good hyung, would always guard it, waiting for him to get out of his classroom and play. But then one day, Jihoon got called to the principal’s office because he stabbed an upperclassman with a pencil. Jihoon-ah, that upperclassman is your idiot of a best friend now,” Jihoon tries to smile. Seungcheol had told him that story a few years back. “So I got called to the principal office too, because well, I’m his brother. Which means, I won’t be able to guard the tire swing. After the whole fiasco, we got to the playground. A-a-and—” he pauses, gritting his teeth together, his face turning red as he weeps. He covers his eyes with the back of his palm, wiping his tears. “T-th-that’s…h-how I first met Jimin. I _…_ ” Yoongi coughs, shaking by the podium. “I wanted my little brother to ride that swing, so I told him, _you rascal, get off the swing!_ And Jimin replied, _but I got here first!_ I didn’t have much choice then, so what I did was I pushed him off. Taehyung, who just stood there unharmed, cried instead of Jimin…”

Jihoon doesn’t remember much of the funeral, didn’t even care about the lowly weather. He tries not to. He doesn’t look at Yoongi, who cried in front, watching Jimin’s casket lower.

Though the only thing that stuck to his mind was this: Yoongi’s words, a few phrases away from the end of his eulogy.

_Jimin, I loved you. And I hate how I have to say everything in past tense._

_“And Enoch also, the seventh from Adam, prophesied of these, saying, Behold, the Lord comes with ten thousands of his saints,”_

Now they’re ten thousand and one.

 

 

 

 

“I once told you to prove me wrong,” Yoongi says. “And at one point, you actually did, when you asked permission from us before proposing to Jihoon. Thank you for taking care of my brother. I can’t overlook that fact.”

“Hyung, I’m so sorry,” Soonyoung says quietly, shoes fiddling against the lawn-mowed grass. The funeral had ended, a few people patting Yoongi on the back as they go to their respective cars, handkerchiefs in their pockets, and unused umbrellas tucked at the very back of their seats.

“It’s one of Jimin’s wishes. He wants me to be a lot nicer to you from now on.”

“We…never knew…”

“That’s another story,” Yoongi releases a deep breath. “I’ll explain everything to Jihoon once I get home,” he throws the car keys to Soonyoung. “You know the way, right?”

“I still do,” Soonyoung replies. Yoongi and Jihoon’s Busan home had turned into somewhat a vacation house, seeing as Yoongi lived in Daegu while Jihoon in Seoul. Yoongi’s residence goes way back though. He transferred universities back then, and with that—he got closer to Jimin, who stayed in a run-down apartment with a business course and a heart of gold.

“I want you and Jihoon to rest early. The train ride from Seoul must be very tiring. I’ve prepared the guest room already.”

“ _Hyung?”_

Yoongi turns to his back, greeting Jihoon with a soft smile. The latter runs to him, hugging him tightly. “Hey, buddy.”

“I’m so sorry,” Jihoon says. He’s crying. “What happened? I never knew—”

Yoongi gives him the same instruction and promise. Jihoon, albeit frustrated, had no choice but to huff to the shotgun seat, gripping the seatbelt Soonyoung had wrapped around him. Later, he watches Yoongi’s figure grow smaller as the car drives by. Soonyoung grips his hand.

“Hey,” starts Soonyoung softly, his voice ghosting over the Western song playing in the radio. “Jihoon?”

“I’m tired of people hiding things from me. I’m tired of people lying to me, Soonyoung,” Jihoon says, thumping his head against the window. “I’m just really, really tired.”

 

_You treat me like a rose_

_You give me room to grow_

_You shone the light of love on me_

_And gave me air so I can breathe_

 

He then asks, “you know the way?”

Soonyoung purses his lips. He’d say _Yoongi hyung taught me the way_ but he’d be lying. If he says, _show me the way,_ then it’d just be the same. That’s when it hits Soonyoung how his lies and cover-ups can fill up a whole pitcher. It’d burst someday, break out of its confines, scattering wet little shards on the ground, waiting to prick skin.

He goes to the left, straight ahead, passing by convenience stores and children who ate their ice popsicles in delight.

“I know the way,” Soonyoung replies. Jihoon stares at him—as if he was a stranger.

 

 

 

 

 

 

After changing clothes, Jihoon curls himself under a sea green blanket. He doesn’t talk to Soonyoung, nor did he want to. In fact, he shields himself, and Soonyoung doesn’t argue nor question his actions, because he understands his yearn to be alone for the moment.

Yoongi comes home, just a little after eight o’clock. Jihoon stumbles out of the guest room barefoot then, the ends of his pajamas touching the floor. Soonyoung runs to him, but Jihoon swats his hands away. He freezes, blinking as Jihoon walked past him with a vile yet cold expression on his face.  

“It was tumor,” Yoongi takes a deep breath, right when Jihoon sat in front of him. “The symptoms weren’t really visible, meaning, he could just…”

“Why didn’t you tell me, hyung?” he says, voice clipped.

“I’m sorry,” it was all Yoongi could say. He folds his hands together.

Jihoon bursts into tears, hiccupping breaths, gripping the cloth of the couch. “How about Mom? Where is she? And Dad?”

Yoongi doesn’t answer.

“Mom never answers my calls and texts. Hyung, where is she?”

“I’m sorry, Jihoon,” Yoongi repeats, lips trembling. “I’m so sorry. Please don’t hate me.”

 _Dead._ Jihoon bites his lower lip, covering his face with his hands. But in the midst of the revelation, the betrayal—he falters, gulping down the bitter taste in his tongue.

His stands up, legs shaking, Soonyoung catching him before he could fall. But he jumps, elbowing his way out of the blonde’s grip, sneering a harsh _don’t touch me_ before going off to the guest room once again, leaving a resonating loud thump from the door. Soonyoung feels something sting his eyes, and as a mechanism, he blinks rapidly and presses his lips into a thin line. His heart pounds fast, its beats falling backwards.

“Yoongi hyung—”

“You and I, we’re both liars,” says Yoongi, his voice hoarse, back turned to Soonyoung. “In fact, everyone lies. It just really takes for someone to be _inhuman_.”

 

 

 

 

 

Soonyoung leaves before the sun could rise to its full potential. But before he could, he places a chaste kiss on Jihoon’s forehead, neatly folding a small note beside the lampshade for him to read when he wakes up.  

Yoongi pours dark coffee in his mug, placing the small pitcher back to the coffee maker. Soonyoung then readjusts the strap of his gym bag, telling Yoongi, “hyung, I have to go. I’ll be back by the end of the week.”

“Where are you going?”

“I have a dance showcase by the end of the week,” Soonyoung mumbles, pointedly staring at the ground. “I’ll pick Jihoon up by next Monday.”

Yoongi scoffs before gulping his coffee. He places the mug on the counter-top, crossing his arms. “Oh, so you’re not taking him with you?”

“No, I’m not.”

“That’s unfortunate. You think you’re really making the right decision?”

“It’s just a dance showcase after all.” Soonyoung curls his lower lip inwards, chuckling dryly. “You must really hate me, huh. Don’t worry, this time, he’s not going to watch me.”

“Not exactly. Though my sentiments still remain the same,” Yoongi says. He pauses, fingers tapping against the edge of the counter. “I know you love him. I also know that you don’t want to leave him. But sometimes you just have to think with your mind, not just with your heart. I acknowledge your feelings for Jihoon. I really do and truthfully, I can’t do anything about it,” he pauses. “We’re both just as bad anyways. We both hide things from him. Sooner or later, he’s going to find out all of those things. How our Mom died, how you two met before… _all of it._ You know this, Soonyoung. You must’ve thought of it, maybe even more than I did. I know you know the right thing to do. You have a future ahead of you, too.”

 

***

 

_4 years ago_

The blaring ambulance siren replaces the sound of music. Just outside the theater, Jihoon doesn’t make it to his dance showcase.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> \- just a warning, pls take this chap as a 'calm before the storm' HAHA  
> \- '10,000 Saints' (movie) reference (eulogy scene)  
> \- song during the car scene: Like A Rose by A1 (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwCfW4ZOkPQ)  
> \- sorry for the late update :( school has been eating me alive ;AAA;  
> \- kudos and comments are very much appreciated, thank you!!!! <3


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> hahahahahahaha
> 
> read the end notes ok
> 
> I love y'all

_“One man I can never meet. Him, I would like to give my whole heart to.”_

The Lake House, 2006

 

 

 

 

_College, Freshman year_

“When you hate someone, it just only means that you had lost the will to understand and love that person” Soonyoung starts. “But then, there’s thing called ‘change,’ and maybe the will you had lost before can be found again. Jihoon, I really hated you.”

“Thanks,” deadpans Jihoon, eyebrows furrowing. Both of them are lying flat on their backs, right on a healthy patch of grass, a small hill, adjacent to the university entrance. It’s quite a walk from the field proper, but the breeze makes it all worth it. “I kind of knew that, though.”

“Can you please let me finish?”

“Okay,” Jihoon laughs, turning to Soonyoung. Both of them are directly facing each other now. “Go.”

“So, ‘change,’” Soonyoung says. “I experienced that.”

“You lost your punch line there.”

“ _Jesus._ I’m trying to confess here.”

Jihoon moves closer, biting down yet another chuckle. “Okay, I’ll just pretend I don’t know how ridiculously in love you are with me.”

“Thank you,” Soonyoung sighs.

“I mean—I’m just trying to relieve some tension here. You look so nervous and—”

Soonyoung pinches Jihoon’s lips shut. “Shut up.”

Jihoon’s eyes form into crescents, nodding. Soonyoung lets go of his lips and continues, “what I’m trying to say here is that—I never knew what love was until I met you,” he cups Jihoon’s cheek. “I love you, Lee Jihoon.”

“How could you love someone like me?” 

Soonyoung swipes his thumb over Jihoon’s knuckles. Right under the cheap ring he wore, a washed henna tattoo rests—although covered, the last stroke peeks out, a curved script that ran all the way to the joint. It says _LJH_. Jihoon’s initials. Softly, after careful beats, he replies, “how could I not?”

 

 

***

 

 

“You can make it up to me,” says Jihoon, catching milk with his spoon and then throwing it back to the bowl, careful of the cereal sticking on the inner sides of it. He doesn’t look at Yoongi, though his voice is just as firm as ever—it coincides with the chirping of the birds outside the house’s windows. “You can tell me the truth for a start. And answer all of my questions.”

There’s a certain solemnity in the atmosphere, but all Jihoon could do was assume. The only knowledge he can rack out of his brain was that he grew up here, right in this two-story house adjacent to the beach, a few turns to the fishing area, where boats are parked by the shore. Yoongi could only do so much for house, since it’s part of his profession—developing and maintaining houses, condominiums and the like. A whole empire he and Jimin had built over time. In fact, they could’ve sold the house, but then, Yoongi had decided to keep it. To preserve memories. To make it a personal museum for Jihoon.

Jihoon imagines what the masterpieces, the memories, would be like. He imagines himself as a kid running around the living room with only his diapers on, he imagines misplacing his pacifiers, whining about it at night, only to calm down when his Mother would sing him a lullaby. And he imagines giggling at whatever he finds funny—even at his Father’s idle bunny slippers. But alas, he wouldn’t remember. Not even when his parents would tuck him to bed—if they ever did.

“But before you could,” Jihoon continues. “I just want to say I’m sorry—”

“You don’t have to, Jihoon. It’s okay.”

“No, it’s not. It was the day of Jimin hyung’s funeral and…it was selfish of me to lash out on you.”

“I deserve it anyway. For hiding such a thing from you.”

Jihoon purses his lips as Yoongi rolls the cereal pack, foil crumpling with every touch. He puts it back in the box, reaching to place it in the cabinet above the sink. The smell of saltwater sifts through his senses. The beach isn’t far away. In fact, it’s so close that he could almost hear the waves clashing upon the shore.

“I can never hate you, hyung. When you hate someone, it just only means that you had lost the will to understand them—nor even love them,” Jihoon says. “And I still understand and love you.”

Yoongi smiles and it just has been _so long_.

 

 

 

 

“It’s very commercialized now though the stores are still quite useful—especially when you have a knack for ‘I heart’ t-shirts with horrible fonts but great material,” says Yoongi. “It wasn’t like this before, though. It was quieter. Just you and the waves.”

“That’s nice,” Jihoon comments, his toes covered with sand, he sinks his feet deeper, wrapping his arms around his knees. Yoongi leans against the trunk of the palm tree, “Dad built us a hammock right there by Burger King.”

Nothing comes out of Jihoon’s mouth except a low hum of acknowledgement. Yoongi stares at him, shades sliding off his head. “Are you scared?”

“Always had been, but—” he wets his lips. “There was a time when I wasn’t.”

“And that was?”

“Whenever I’m with Soonyoung,” Jihoon continues, “he makes me feel like I could fly even if I didn’t have wings.”

Yoongi sighs, “you really do love him, huh?”

Jihoon bites his lower lip, tucking his chin, knees pressed against his chest. “Hyung, just answer this question.”

Yoongi nods.

Jihoon takes a deep breath, soreness seeping through the bridge of nose—he tries not to cry. “Was Soonyoung the only man I’ve ever loved?”

There was a pause. And then, Yoongi answers softly, “yes.”

They walk around the beach a little after that, a little after Jihoon had wiped his tears away, washing his hand away with the sand. At evening, they find themselves seated at a restaurant whose menu consisted solely of seafood. The candle flickers in the wind, though the cloth that covered the poles stuck just fine.

They catch up on the smallest of things—and it’s hard—fitting a year within a span of hours, but Yoongi takes all of it, listening to his little brother’s words, nodding and commenting when needed.

“Jihoon, my company is always open for you,” informs Yoongi suddenly, taking advantage of the silence. “You know of this, right?”

“Actually,” Jihoon wipes his mouth with a napkin, “the talk we had…it’s one of the few memories I actually remember.”

“Really?” Yoongi raises his eyebrows. “But that was in college?”

“I don’t exactly remember the talk itself. I just remember my reaction. And it’s funny, because by then, I was at a frat party. Seungcheol and Jeonghan were starting an orgy, and I was talking to Soonyoung and—” he gasps, covering his mouth, eyes wide. “ _No_ , wait, I—”

“Jihoon,” Yoongi says alarmingly, “are you okay?”

“No, it’s not Soonyoung,” whispers Jihoon. “I’m sorry…he’s been running through my mind all day and I— _that guy_ , I don’t even…I’m sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. Listen, we’ll go home right after we finish this food, so you can rest early.”

Jihoon nods mutely, gripping the bread knife tightly. The seafood marinara on his plate turns cold, the tip of his fork resting in between the noodles. He blinks the image away, the image of Soonyoung sitting on a cum-stained couch with him at a frat party, ears pierced with all kinds of silvers—one on his scaffold, while the remaining ones ran all the way down from his helix to his lower lobe like a straight constellation. He wore a Metallica muscle tee, too, and what seemed like manually ripped jeans. He remembers all of this—but for the past years, the man who had these band merchandise, these piercings had always been a mystery to him. His face is just as vague as the memories that rested at the back of his mind, a place where he can never reach.

But he could only be imagining it. He could be misplacing a different colored puzzle piece with the right shape to complete the jigsaw. Maybe it’s the note that rested on his pocket, written with a faded ink and Soonyoung’s care, inching closer towards his conscience every minute.

“Jihoon, when we love someone, we would want the best for them, right?” says Yoongi all of the sudden, his voice soft—contemplative. “And sometimes, we lie to make them feel better. But of course, when lying is involved, the situation usually backfires.”

“But I have never lied to Soonyoung, hyung.”

Yoongi purses his lips. “I know, Jihoon,” it’s almost sad. “I know.”

 

 

 

 

From: Jihoon

To: Soonyoung

_Hey, got home safely? Did you do well on your practice?_

_I’ve been thinking of you_

_Yoongi hyung and I ate seafood today. It’s your favorite, right?_

_I miss you so much, babe_

_Please reply as soon as possible_

_I love you, Soonyoung_

“I love you so much,” Jihoon whispers rather pathetically to his phone, staring at the circular icon beside Soonyoung’s name. It’s a picture of them lying down on Jihoon’s bed. Unlike Soonyoung’s, where his sheets are that of a Stormtrooper, Jihoon’s sheets are plain beige, much like the walls of his room.

_“Your room is very boring,” he remembers Soonyoung saying, snuggling closer to him, kissing his naked shoulder. “You need some color in your life.”_

_Jihoon smiles. “You’re colorful enough for me.”_

Jihoon wakes the next morning without any notifications except for the emails he had asked his secretary to send him despite being on a holiday. There’s a system update notification, too, but other than those— _nothing._

He opens the messaging app. _Nothing as well_. Not even an indication where Soonyoung had seen his messages. He then presses hit on Soonyoung’s number for a call and waits. His screen pauses for a millisecond, then turning to another caller ID, number unfamiliar. Eyebrows furrowed, Jihoon answers it with hesitance, thoughts hitching up a hundred.

A woman’s voice.

 

 

***

 

“Hi, this is Yuna. I’m Soonyoung’s friend. And Seokmin’s too and—” Seokmin leans against the post, wooden spatula in hand, wearing a ‘Best Chef’ apron. He gestures for the phone, Yuna obliging. “Wait, here’s Seokmin.”

“Jeonghan hyung?” Seokmin greets rather excitedly. Yuna rolls her eyes. “Ah, yes, Soonyoung is here.”

_“Wait, who was that girl? Why is Soonyoung’s phone with you? I need to talk to him. Like right now.”_

“My girlfriend,” he answers the first question, voice lower, slightly smiling at the sight of Yuna slapping Soonyoung’s cheek (who is sprawled out on his couch, top off, and smells of booze.) He grimaces later, “Soonyoung’s asleep— _passed out,_ I mean.”

_“What exactly happened?”_

“Well, he’s half-naked.”

 _“That’s not what I meant,”_ snaps Jeonghan. Seokmin knows he isn’t going to get away with this—not with Jeonghan’s tone and the itch on his tongue. But the promise Soonyoung had shook out of him lingers at the back of his mind.

“We just…went for drinks last night. You know, bar hopping and all that. Just like the old days,” he lies smoothly, earning a worried glance from Yuna, who stepped inside the kitchen with him, leaning against the counter. “He drank a lot,” he adds, making it less of a lie. But it still was nonetheless.

_“Why is he half-naked then?”_

“He, uh, puked on his own shirt.”

_“Ir's about Jihoon.” It was more of a statement than a question, but he opts to take it as the latter._

In this silence, Yuna must’ve heard Jeonghan’s question, because she mouths him a small, ‘don’t lie anymore,’ and underneath that, Seokmin could tell that she also meant _it’s for the best._ He agrees.

“Yes, yes it was.”

 

 

 

 

 

“Wow, Yuna, this soup tastes amazing!”

“I didn’t make it. Seokmin did.”

“Fuck, it tastes like shit.”

Seokmin rolls his eyes. “At least be a little grateful?”

“I’m kidding,” Soonyoung smirks, lips resting against the rim of the bowl, uncaring of how the soup burned his tongue. He gulps all of it in one go, sweat coating his neck. His shirt is still in the dryer, and while Seokmin should let him borrow another one, he doesn’t, because he hasn’t taken a bath yet. Seokmin’s not putting any of his shirts up for adoption. “Really delicious.”

“Flattery will get you nowhere,” mumbles Yuna, laughing lightly at Seokmin, the latter gasping dramatically. A ribbon-held bun tops Yuna’s head, bangs framing her face. Seokmin tucks a bunch of strands behind her ear.

“Nice,” says Soonyoung, still topless. “So when did all of this happen?”

“Not long ago,” answers Yuna. She’s wearing an off-shoulder long sleeves, and it looks really nice on her. She stands up from her seat, giving Seokmin a chaste kiss. “I have to go. Still have ballet.”

“Okay, take care. Text me when you get there.”

“I will. And _you_ —” she turns to Soonyoung. “Fix your shit.”

“I’ll try,” he replies, lifting a glass. Yuna rolls her eyes, retrieving her bag from the rack. She slams the door shut.

“She’s right. You do need to fix your shit. Drinking is not really the best solution out there. And drugs.”

“You talk as if you’re a saint.”

“I’m not. Stop being a dick,” Seokmin says, dragging his chair backwards to reach for the drawer behind him. He throws Soonyoung a cigarette pack, and then gets a lighter. “What exactly happened between you and Jihoon? You were a fucking mess last night,” he taps the side of his mouth, referring to Soonyoung’s bruise. “And what happened there?”

“It’s nothing,” Soonyoung dismisses quickly. Soonyoung sighs, placing the cigarette in between his lips. He leans forward, Seokmin lighting the tip for him. He blows a smoke. “ _Anyway,_ Jihoon and I weren’t on good terms when I left Busan, but he has been messaging me and trying to call me and—I just…I _can’t_.”

“If Jihoon’s willing to make up with you then you shouldn’t really beat yourself up too much,” Seokmin advices, fumbling with the seasonings by the edge of the table, dragging a small, circular bowl right behind the flowery tissue holder. He takes the small cloth off the bowl, revealing yet another flowery object—an orange ashtray with daisies decorated on the flat surface.  

“Yeah, you’re right,” Soonyoung says absently, pressing the tip against the daisies. “You’re right.”

It’s evening when he readies himself to go home. Yuna did text Seokmin when she arrived at work, sending him a picture of her wearing a tutu, along with the kids she taught at the academy. For dinner, Seokmin took the liberty to treat Soonyoung some Thai takeout. Not a few minutes later, after wiping his mouth with a piece of tissue, he announces his leave, for its late and he doesn’t really fancy chasing choosy taxi drivers at this time of the night. Seokmin then gives him his shirt. It’s now puke-free and smells of apples.

“Jeonghan hyung called you earlier. I had to answer it,” says Seokmin, handing him his phone after Soonyoung had cupped his empty pockets, yelling for his mobile. “I just told him you were at my apartment and that you were fine. But how come he knew you were out somewhere?”

“We just bumped into each other at the mall. Anyways, I really have to go now. Did I forget anything else?”

Seokmin raises his eyebrows, gritting his teeth—but he laughs, pulling out a small piece of paper from his pocket. “Yeah, you did,” he smoothens the crumpled receipt. “Jihoon’s supposed to be the one with amnesia and yet here you are constantly forgetting that Jihoon has feelings and that he loves you.”

“Seokmin—”

It’s a handwritten receipt from the Ministry of Foreign affairs, and from the listed items, Seokmin could gather that Soonyoung had his passport renewed. “If you only knew, Soonyoung…” he doesn’t continue but Soonyoung understands his unsaid words well enough. He repeats, “if you only knew.”

If he only knew how Jihoon, during his confinement, had mumbled his name in his sleep, then waking up completely unaware of the holes in his heart. If he only knew how Jihoon skipped meals, dehydrated himself, and cried himself to sleep.

“Next week,” whispers Soonyoung, staring at the carpet floor of the hallway. Above him, the bulb blinks, and then dies, making the area dimmer than it already is. It’s eerily quiet too, not even the elevator adjacent to the door makes a sound. Among the quiet, Soonyoung sucks in a deep breath, eyes prickling from the tears that threatened to flow. It does eventually, like a newborn waterfall at an untouched forest. “I’m leaving for Japan next week. And this time, I’m not coming back.”

 

 

 

 

 

He bumped into Jeonghan and Seungcheol at a café somewhere near the building of the Ministry. Such a coincidence it was, because Jeonghan and Seungcheol were booking for a vacation while Soonyoung did quite the opposite.

Jeonghan stares at him, sunglasses slipping down the bridge of his nose. Soonyoung tries to hide the brown envelope full of documents tucked in his armpit but a glimpse was enough for Jeonghan to stand up from his seat, Seungcheol following his gaze.

The three don’t say anything. The others bustled with life as idly as they could. The hum of a coffee maker comes after, and so does a creak of the soles of a chair, and Seungcheol gripping the collars of his jacket. Had Jeonghan not pull him away, he would’ve punched Soonyoung right then and there.

The couple must’ve been hanging off a cliff, as if they waited for Soonyoung to step on their fingers. But instead, it’s a reverse—Soonyoung falls. “I trusted you,” Seungcheol says, voice hoarse, chest heaving. His face is red from the way he tried to keep his anger at bay. Jeonghan, however, was quiet. Mild. “I trusted you, man. You said you wouldn’t hurt him anymore. What the fuck—”

“I’m sorry,” was all Soonyoung could say. He picks up the brown envelope on the floor. “I really am.” The thing is, Soonyoung needn’t say that he renewed his passport and booked a flight to Japan for next week. It’s the envelope he held and the expression on his face that said it all—the remorse, the guilt, but underneath all that—the conviction. Jeonghan tries to calm Seungcheol down whilst reasoning his cousin to stay, so he falters for a short while—which gave Seungcheol the opportunity to escape his grip. Seungcheol punches Soonyoung square on the jaw; the café halts and stares. Some people even whip their phones out.

“So you’re going to leave him? Just like that? Without telling him the truth?”

Soonyoung didn’t know what came over him but in the heat of the moment, he collides his fist with Seungcheol’s jaw, causing the latter to stumbled backwards. As a response, he charges forward before Jeonghan could stop him. He shoves Soonyoung to wall and punches him once again, but Soonyoung grips his arm and pushes him, throwing another fist.

The manager of the café emerges from the backroom and asks them to stop with an alarmed tone, hand gripping a phone, ready to call the police. Both couldn’t even begin to care, the older driven by anger, the younger driven by frustration, which in turn having to use his hyung as an outlet. It’s irrational, something his past self would do, but then again Soonyoung’s not really the one for rationality.

“He needs to know the truth, Soonyoung!” Seungcheol bellows, a little after he calmed down. He isn’t mad, per se, not at Soonyoung exactly, but the whole ordeal of it. After all, it’s hard to understand their phenomenology of love. “He needs to know.”

And that’s the exact reason why he and Jihoon can’t be together.

    

 

 

***

 

_4 years ago, the incident_

 

“So?” Jeonghan and Seungcheol prompt, raising their eyebrows, holding bottles of wines by its necks. Behind them stood the whole dance troupe, music club and the whole of Alpha Sig. 

Soonyoung and Jihoon stand a good foot away from each other, hands on their backs. Soonyoung blinks, expression falling. His eyes are sore. “Sorry, guys.”

Sounds of disappointment came after. Jihoon and Soonyoung inch further away from each other. An awkward silence falls into place, Seungcheol opening and closing his mouth, trying to find the right words to say while Jeonghan stood gobsmacked.

“We’re not together anymore…” announces Jihoon, voice quiet, but within the silence, his words resonate well enough around the walls of Seungcheol’s home.

“Oh my god,” Jeonghan whispers, clasping his hand over his mouth.

“…as boyfriend,” finishes Soonyoung, a sly grin creeping on his lips. He raises his fist and yells, “he said yes!”

The whole house cheers. Soonyoung takes Jihoon by the waist and kisses him full on the lips, hands sliding to the smaller’s back. “I love you,” he whispers, only audible for Jihoon.

“I love you, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

   

 

“I _did not_ stutter!”

“He totally did,” Jihoon nods. The crowd gathered around them laughs. “He had to repeat the question thrice!”

“Okay, that’s true,” Soonyoung finally confirms, wrapping his arm around Jihoon’s shoulder. The latter fiddles with the ring on his finger, still almost unbelieving. “But you said ‘yes,’ anyways. That’s what matters. Not my lame ass communication skills.”

“Whatever you say, baby.”

Soonyoung had proposed to Jihoon by the swing they frequent to. The spot used to be empty but then Soonyoung had the whole frat donate for it. The idea of Jihoon as his fiancé, as the person he’ll spend the rest of his life with is enough to wash away all of his worries in life. In fact, it motivates him to do better in general. To secure a future. To secure a future because Jihoon deserves nothing but the best.

“So Soonyoung, your dance showcase is tomorrow, right?” his frat mate brings up. “Man, I’m so hyped. We should go for drinks after.”

“Oh? Will you be the one paying for it then, Haejoon?” Seungcheol pipes up, teasing.

“Of course not! You, our President, should be the one paying for it!”

“Yeah! Feed your sons!” another one yells.

“Absolutely not!”

“Jeonghan hyung,” Haejoon whines. The other frat members follow, clasping their hands together, making puppy eyes. _Jeonghan hyung, you’re the only who can make Seungcheol hyung do stuff._

“Seungcheol, I think you should treat them,” Jeonghan says, obliging. And just like that Seungcheol nods and says as if he fell under a spell, “fine.”

He adds, “it will also be fitting to celebrate Soonyoung and Jihoon’s engagement.”

“How generous of you,” Jihoon says, interlocking hands with Soonyoung. “Will you also pay for our wedding reception?”

“Of course not,” Seungcheol rolls his eyes. His small business may be prospering among the students and faculty in uni, but his wallet is ajar and his piggy bank is still screaming. “What do I poop? Gold?”

They all laugh, another frat member comments about how Seungcheol is only ever doting to Jeonghan, which in turn causing the whole frat (with the exclusion of Soonyoung) to actually _pout_ at Seungcheol, silently begging him to sponsor every party of theirs. Seungcheol promises that if he gets to build his dream mall in the future, only then he should pull a—as he would quote it— _a motherfucking Gatsby sans the Daisy because Jeonghan is a sweet angel_.  

Soonyoung, in the midst of lighthearted jokes and laughter, leans in and whispers to Jihoon, “hey, you’re going to the dance showcase tomorrow, right?”

“Of course,” he nods. “I wouldn’t miss it for the world, Soonyoung.”

 

 

 

 

Ten minutes.

Ten minutes until their performance and Jihoon hasn’t filled the reserved seat for him in the first row. He should be with his team right now, saying something motivational, something reassuring. But as he peeks from the curtains, anxiousness creeps up to his veins. Jeonghan catches his eye at one point, slightly shaking his head. Seungcheol has his phone on his ear, following his fiancé’s actions. They can’t contact Jihoon either.

“Capt’, it’s time for a short warm-up,” says his teammate after a while. “Show’s starting in a minute.”

Soonyoung nods mutely, following his teammate to their dressing room. Eventually, he gets to say something coherent, like what the team captain should do, but his mind is somehow still out of it. They walk to the stage, in position, and for a moment, Soonyoung lets go. The announcer opens the show after a short speech, and then the curtain draws open.

Jihoon still isn’t there.

 

 

The show ends after a good hour. When he steps off the stage, posing for a few pictures from people he’s _supposedly_ to know, Jeonghan and Seungcheol hog him, the former whispering how he’s proud of him while the latter pats him on the back. They don’t mention Jihoon’s absence. At least, not yet, because they notice the down of his expression. Commenting about Jihoon would upset him more.

Just then, the phone in his hand rings, screen slightly painted with small splashes of rainbows, an interference formed from his sweaty palms. It’s Jihoon.

“Jihoon?”

 _“Soonyoung? Soonyoung, babe, it’s me. Oh God, I’m so sorry, we were just doing our thesis and it was really traffic and_ holy shit. _I’m so sorry.”_

“It’s fine,” says Soonyoung, voice distant. He half meant it though. He’s allowed to be upset for a little while, right? It’s an important event for him after all, one that Jihoon promised he would see. He understands his reason though, so he can’t really bring himself to be actually mad. “Where are you now?”

“ _I’m across the street of the theater_. _I bought you those orange juice packs that you like and—”_

Soonyoung freezes.

The reception of the tires screeching comes in late. For him, that is. He’s running but he couldn’t feel his legs, his pushing people away but he couldn’t feel his arms. He sees Jihoon then, flat on the floor, blood pooling him. The car that hit him drives away, but his frat mates run to follow it, even if it’s four tires against pairs of legs. He kneels next to Jihoon, lifting him gently by the shoulders and yells for help.

“Don’t leave me please,” he whispers, tears trickling down his cheeks. “Please, please, please. I can’t live without you.”

Soonyoung has carried Jihoon home quite a lot of times, and in other circumstances, just a simple piggyback ride, sometimes bridal style when Jihoon’s feet are too tired to walk to bed.

The hospital is just a block away. Never did he imagine he would carry him to an emergency room. The orange packs in front of the theater are left splattered on the ground.

Soonyoung breathes but he couldn’t feel quite alive.

 

 

 

 

 

Before leaving for Japan, he takes the ring off of Jihoon’s finger. Still. He doesn’t say goodbye.

 

***

 

Two hours before midnight, Jihoon greets him. He’s sitting by the living room, suitcase still unpacked. Soonyoung blinks once, twice, trying to take in the situation. He takes a deep breath.

“I was going to pick you up next Monday.”

“I wanted to see you sooner,” Jihoon says. “You weren’t replying to my texts and calls. Look, I shouldn’t have poured all of my anger and frustration on you—” he tries to hug Soonyoung. “Soonyoung, please?”

“I’m really tired, Jihoon. And you must be, too. Let’s just go to sleep. It’s fine.”

“No, it’s not. If it was fine, then you would’ve answered my texts and calls. Soonyoung, let’s talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about, Jihoon. It’s okay.”

“You know what,” he snaps, taking a step back, frowning. “That’s your fucking problem. You always say there’s nothing to talk about and I’m left here wondering how the fuck should I fix this when you don’t even want to cooperate.”

“ _Jesus,_ Jihoon, I told you it’s fine!” Soonyoung yells.

“Do you think I’m stupid?!” Jihoon heaves, pushing him. “Do you think I don’t that you’ve got your suitcases packed inside your bedroom? Do you think I don’t fucking know that _your fucking dance showcase was done over a month ago?”_

Soonyoung gapes and then falters. “How did you know?”

“I went to the theater. I wanted to surprise you, but then shit, I remembered you don’t even want me to go. You even had to lie for the date.”

“You may not understand what I’m doing right now, Jihoon. Actually I don’t think you’d ever understand.” He finally finds his voice, heart pounding. He clenches his fists, pursing his lips. Jihoon’s crying already and he can’t bear to see it any longer, so he turns away. “And I don’t want you to understand.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

He has read one of Jeonghan’s texts in the taxi. His Mother had found Jihoon’s number and had called him. He isn’t so sure of what she told him, probably something closer to the truth, one that he has never even spoken of.

It’s that feeling again; when he can’t feel his arms, legs, and wondered how his lungs still worked after he’s long dead. Jihoon’s so beautiful and would always be. He loves him so much it hurt, loves him more than life itself, more than the sun loved the moon, and more than anyone could ever possibly love anyone.

“Let’s break up.”

Jihoon whose expression shriveled with anger contorts into that of worry, shock and _fear._ He reaches out for Soonyoung’s hand, chest heaving. “Soonyoung…I’m sorry. Don’t do this.”

“I’m going to leave tomorrow,” announces Soonyoung, shaking out of Jihoon’s grip.

Jihoon envelops him into a hug, burying his face on his chest. “Soonyoung, please don’t do this. I-I know I s-said some things, but please we can still fix this. I love you. Don’t leave me.”

“Jihoon, let go.”

He tightens his hold. “No.”

“You’ve been wanting me to tell you the truth, right?” he shoves Jihoon away and wishes to be scratched off from his memory. _I’m sorry._ “I don’t love you anymore.”

 

 

   

 

  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> soonyoung's an idiot
> 
> anyway in the next chap!! more things and insights will be further explained and revealed ;) ;) It'll be more jihoon-centric so it'll fill in some gaps in this chap so yey !!!
> 
> I love u all <3 <3 comments and kudos and everything are v much appreciated yES
> 
> [sweats] I'm gonna properly edit this chap soon


	13. Chapter 13

ONE YEAR LATER

 

“So how does it feel?” Seungkwan asks, plopping down on the bright green chair opposite Chan. Mingyu comments something about Seungkwan being a ‘goddamn klutz’ for spilling orange juice on his coat. _You can live,_ comes Seungkwan’s shrugging reply. _It’s not that deep._

“I’m sorry. I’m feeling uncomfortable when we are not about me?” Chan says.

“I know that meme,” Wonwoo says, pointing a pair of chopsticks at him. “And it’s ‘I _am feel_.’”

“Whatever,” Chan rolls his eyes. It’s just recently that he has moved to an apartment of his own, dealing with bills and even more workload as he just got promoted two positions higher. The adultness and war in his eyes—or eye bags in the literal sense—are almost laughable. But all are reminded of how they’re in a similar situation. Welcome to the club, Chan.

“Anyway,” Seungkwan briefly fixes his tie. “Chan, how does it feel now that you’ve graduated from the Christmas Committee?”

“May I just say that I feel fucking happy,” Chan beams.

_“Language, young man.”_

“Sorry, hyung. I got carried away.”

“It’s okay,” Jihoon says, looking up from his documents. “I mean, all of us are kind of aware of the porno stash you have in your cubicle.”

“I _do not_ have a porno stash in my cubicle!”

“Yeah, you do,” comes another voice. “A janitor found one of your DVDs lying under your CPU. There’s this thing called porn sites, you know. I mean—” Seungcheol turns to Jeonghan, who’s probably the most disappointed fiancé in Korea right now. “Who even buys those kinds of hardcopies nowadays anyway?”

Jeonghan hits Seungcheol on the chest. “Honey, please shut up.”

“Okay.”

Seungcheol then asks, “so, what are you kids up to?”

Wonwoo, Mingyu, Chan and Seungkwan internally pray. It’s usually a hip dad thing to say, given how Seungcheol’s tone fluctuated—and his entire demeanor to be honest. However, he’s just their CEO, and the connotation of _‘so, what are you kids up to?’_ only means more workload for them instead of just a good ol’ probing.

“Nothing much, sir,” Mingyu, who’s now an actual employee with better wages, quirks up a smile.

“That’s great,” Seungcheol nods. “I have a new assignment for all of you!”

All of them suppress a groan. Jihoon’s surprised of how they managed to stay on that degree of professional, considering the fact that all of them spend their time whining about their jobs during breaks.

“Chan, I’m making you the head for this project. You just graduated from the Christmas Committee, yes?”

“Please don’t tell me it’s another holiday committee,” Seungkwan says.

“All of you are Valentines Committee members,” Seungcheol lifts both of his fists up to cheer. Jeonghan’s just embarrassed. “And that includes you, Jihoon!”

“Go to hell.”

“We’ll be seeing each other there someday, don’t worry.”

“I can’t work on Valentines, though,” Jihoon gathers his papers, and lowers his voice, “I still have a few projects to accomplish.”

“Jihoon…” Jeonghan trails.

“It’d be a good bonding moment as well,” Seungkwan speaks up, the other three nodding along with him. “Since you’re going to leave the company soon, hyung.”

A stretch of silence comes after. Jihoon has been frequently spending lunches with his co-workers, albeit not really saying much—just the occasional comments, suggestions and sometimes a smack at the back of Mingyu or Seungkwan’s head (Wonwoo and Chan are kind of ‘normal.’ Hansol left the company a month ago.)

“Come on,” urges Seungcheol. “It’d be fun. You missed being a part of the Christmas Committee. Now’s the time to try it, except for another holiday.”

“Valentines is not exactly a holiday, you know,” Jihoon says softly. “But fine. I’ll join but I’ll only do supervising.”

It’s enough. Jihoon has been very minimal about his movements these days. His habits turn into obsessions, and everything in between is just a passing minute of paper works, sometimes Chinese takeout, and occasionally bottles of beer feat Seokmin’s even breaths after cleaning up his new place. At work, he locks himself in his office, not answering until the fifth knock. If it reaches up to the tenth, it’s Seungcheol, which just makes it all the more begrudging for him to get the door. He only shows signs of life by perpetually engaging with people during lunch breaks to make up for the time, the years, the infinity of what will come after.

Change is the only constant thing in the world besides death, but it isn’t something Jihoon is accustomed to.

When Hansol quit the company, it made quite a difference. Work-wise, his ideas are missed dearly, and it’s one less optimist in the group. Seungkwan, however, doesn’t say anything about it, and the only time he did was when they received wedding invitation cards before the holidays last year.

_“He’s happy. That’s what matters.”_

Jihoon’s living in a new apartment now— _scratch that_ —a penthouse atop Yoongi’s newly opened hotel, which he will soon be a head of. The hotel is under the very same company he has been adamantly refusing about back in that college frat party, where he cried to a stranger, and where Jeonghan rode Seungcheol’s cock on a blue carpet while people filmed them. The _orgy_ , in other words.

He moves in the penthouse a day after the hotel’s opening. As expected of his brother’s caring aptitude, he had the place fully furnished. The only concerning thing about the whole ordeal was the bed in his room: it’s made for two. To relieve himself of the internal dilemma, he sleeps right in the middle, as if to lie on the equilibrium to cease the prevalent reminder of what Soonyoung’s space should’ve been. On good days, he wakes up on the right, facing his lamp, and on bad days, he’d wake up on his left, cold and longing.

(He doesn’t consider Soonyoung as a taboo topic, though. He tries not to give him so much credit for the crippling ache in his life—so he talks about him casually on some days that it’d catch Seungcheol, Jeonghan and sometimes even Seokmin off guard.)

“A little to the left, Mingyu,” Jihoon instructs, hand on his hip, the other clutching a crumpling bagel. It’s a week before Valentines. “Thought you’d be the most credible person for this. I mean, you’ve graduated from the Christmas Committee and all.”

“I used to ace Mathematics back in kindergarten, but here I am.”

“Didn’t you graduate college years ago? How can you flunk Math now?”

“That’s beside the point!”

Chan whines from the corner then, “this is out of our job descriptions!”

“You are all such big babies,” Wonwoo comments, carrying a box full of heart cutouts. “Look at Seungkwan. He’s not complaining.”

“No, I just accepted my impending death.”

“That’s the spirit,” Jihoon says. “Anyway, we should all take a short break. Be back before five.”

All of them sigh in relief, leaving their parts as it is, the lounge subsequently looking like an aftermath of a zombie apocalypse sans trains and Gong Yoo. He, at least, tries to make the posters look decent by aligning them perfectly on the wall. Wonwoo stays with him, holding down the mini ladder he stepped on, just to prevent him from stumbling.

“Thanks,” Jihoon mutters. “Told Mingyu he needed to move it a little to the left.”

“Well, he’s kind of hardheaded,” Wonwoo says fondly. “And that’s coming from someone who lives with him.”

“Good for you,” Jihoon says, climbing down the ladder, dusting his palms off. “Meanwhile I’ve had enough of roommates.”

 

 

 

 

 

“So, I know this guy—”

“Not interested.”

“Well, you are our best man. You have to be at least interested of who’s going to be the wedding planner of me and Jeonghan’s wedding.”

Jihoon pauses. Oh, right. “It’s about time.”

“Yeah,” Seungcheol nods. “Are you available for next week?”

“I’m not sure, I mean—” he rattles the box he held. His office is almost empty. “I have to double check my schedule.”

“Okay, just make sure you keep in touch.”

“Of course I will, Seungcheol. With you and Jeonghan and everybody.”

Seungcheol nods. It’s the first time he’s going to be relatively away from his best friend. Being emotional is an understatement. He says something a little out of place then, and in the worse of the worst, he deems it as the right timing. “You know, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t mention it. Literally.” Comes Jihoon’s stern reply, knowing his context already. “It’s not your fault that Soonyoung left me.”

“Jeonghan and I shouldn’t have set you two up. I trusted him, too. God, if he weren’t Jeonghan’s cousin, I would’ve—”

“It’s fine. He’s your friend. You wouldn’t do that to him—wholeheartedly, that is,” he sighs. “And I’m glad you two set us up. I mean, without him I wouldn’t even be the person I am right now. Though, just a little sadder.”

Jihoon slides his foot in between the ajar door as a mute goodbye. But before he could exit his office, albeit anticlimactically and without any hint of sentiment, Seungcheol blurts, “Soonyoung just thought he was doing it for the best.”

"I don't know," says Jihoon. "It's like when he left, he took the happiness he gave me with him." He chuckles sadly, clutching the box even tighter, “and that isn’t really the best feeling.”

 

***

Valentines this year, unexpectedly, is still quite eventful. Each Choi Malls branch is on sale, meaning, more paperwork for him. But it’s not something Jihoon can't handle. The day is ending already, and the workload churns into a density lower. He tries his best to not stress too much, nor to complain, because it’s his last set of documents with the Choi Malls logo stamped on the upper corners.

Wonwoo then suspiciously drags him out his office wearing a close-lipped smile. He tells him to close his eyes and to not peek. He mutters something about being too lazy to take off his tie, and that he should just pretend to be surprised of the party they’re going to hold for him. Jihoon laughs and says, “but I didn’t know you guys were gonna hold a goodbye party for me.”

Wonwoo gasps, “holy shit, really? I thought we were kind of obvious. Okay, now you can _actually_ pretend that you don’t know anything.”

Jihoon still keeps his eyes closed. Wonwoo leads him somewhere—the lounge probably, because it’s the only open space for them to party—and gestures for the crowd to scream: _“Surprise!”_

Jihoon does act surprised, thankfully, and reciprocates each hug given to him. He isn’t so sure about the tears that stained his shoulders, though. He’ll see.

Seungcheol and Jeonghan wait for everyone to detach themselves from Jihoon. Once they did, Jeonghan speaks up, “Jihoonie, thank you for all the years you’ve spent with us. We’ll miss you. But that’s just the part-owner in me talking. We’ll probably still see you around. Who wants beer?”

Jihoon laughs. “You two,” he steps forward. “Thank you. I love the both of you.”

He learns to say it every once in a while—to his friends and to his brother. On rare occasions, he’d say it to himself, too. After all, we should be our very own first love. And even if we fail to achieve such a thing, it would _never_ be too late to do it.

As the party goes on, Jihoon realizes how much he’s going to miss all of them. He’s going to miss Chan’s whines, Mingyu’s retorts, Seungkwan’s wit and sense of humor, and Wonwoo’s calming presence. Hell, he even misses Hansol quite a bit, that kid. But most of all, he’s going to miss how Seungcheol would always visit his office without knocking. Sometimes Jeonghan, too, except he would always come with food.

“Hyung, you didn’t attend last year’s Christmas and New Years’ party! Make sure you attend this one, okay?”

And he admits, he misses the guy he met on those parties approximately two years ago. On the 25th, that guy stripped, and on the 1st of the new year, they kissed. Sometime after, Jihoon fell in love with him.

The ache is still there, but he tucks it away, keeps it like an olden secret. He couldn’t attend last year’s parties because everything would just remind him of Soonyoung. This year is a little different, though. He tries to move on.

“Of course.”

Today was supposed to be their one-year anniversary, but he’s doing quite well.

 

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

_A year ago_

“I don’t love you anymore.”

Jihoon takes a step back, lips trembling. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No, you didn’t do anything wrong. It’s just—I can’t do this anymore, Jihoon. I think it’s for the best.”

“How is it the best for us?” Jihoon asks, hands on his hips, tongue against his inner cheek. Not only did his heart drop to his stomach, but his world as well. “Soonyoung, I love you. I love you so much.”

“I can’t keep lying to you, Jihoon. You deserve so much better.”

“What? How are you lying? Is there something I shouldn’t know?”

Soonyoung purses his lips, turning away. “Yes, Jihoon. I’ve been lying to you all this time.”

“So you don’t love me?” his voice cracks. “Did you even…did you even love me for real?”

“I did, but it’s just not working out for me anymore.”

 

 

 

Soonyoung leaves the morning after, all packed. He tries to make him stay again, but the blonde just pries away from his grip, and clicks the door shut. He should’ve put a red tape over the doorstep. Maybe Soonyoung wouldn’t have crossed it.

Jihoon wished he’d have amnesia once again.

 

 

 

***

 

 

 

 

His brother’s company isn’t all that bad.

It took a while for him to adjust, but overall, the ambience and workspace are nice. The staff is nice, the system is nice, the doorman of the hotel is nice.

“It’s nice,” Jihoon assures Yoongi. “It’s been a month now, and I think I could get used to this.”

“You better,” Yoongi says, taking a bite off his sandwich leaning his elbows against the breakfast counter. They’re at his penthouse. “Taehyung can be of help when I’m not around.”

“I know. He’s a great guy,” he hands him a glass of wine. “Are you going to stay the night, hyung? It’s getting pretty late.”

“No, it’s fine,” Yoongi waves his hand, quickly finishing the wine before standing up. He drapes his coat over his arm. “Oh, and I don’t want to sound like _that_ big brother, but don’t drink anymore, okay? And sleep early.”

“Okay, okay. I promise.”

Yoongi pats him on the shoulder, taking slow strides towards the elevator, briefly waving a small goodbye. The _ding!_ echoes in his big penthouse, and just like that, he was then slapped of the singularity he lived in.

He spent his holidays with Yoongi last year, back in their old home-turned-vacation house in Busan. After visiting their Mother’s and Jimin’s graves on Christmas morning, they go home and exchange gifts. Jihoon bought him an expensive perfume, while Yoongi gave him a scrapbook with small stationary ropes wrapped around it.

“I found it in Jimin’s gym bag; the one he used when he visited your old apartment. I think he meant to give it to you that day, but you know…” he trails although with finality. “I don’t know what’s inside that scrapbook, Jihoon, but something tells me that you should only read it when you’re ready. I think it’s a personal project you did back in your college days.”

The scrapbook, as of the moment, is sitting innocently on the far corner of his closet, covered with heaps of clothes. Scrapbooks, after all, are often used for timelines, for keeping memories. He’s sure of the context lying on the crusty pages of the book, however, he feels quite the opposite when it comes to knowing the actual content of it, afraid of what he might stumble upon.

Back when he used to take therapies under Dr. Hong, all he could think of was getting his memories back, to get his supposed life in its initial pace. Perhaps, it is to give justice to what the past Jihoon had done, or what he’d dream of doing. But as years go by, he just felt like he was given the body, and his soul is left like a newborn baby.    

Before going to sleep, he opens his phone and checks his emails, reading over everything just in case he overlooks one for work. Though at the very top, lies a message from an unfamiliar email, and it isn’t anything related to their hotels nor condominiums.

RE: BATCH XX - XX REUNION, XX UNIVERSITY: COLLEGE OF BUSINESS ADMINISTRATION

It was Soonyoung’s university.

 

 

 

 

  

He excuses himself from work early, driving all the way to Jeonghan and Seungcheol’s wedding planner’s office. It wasn’t a long drive from the company, thankfully. He steps out of his car, holding a warm cup of coffee, feeling slightly jittery. There are so many things to say, like there’s another set of Kim and Jeon making out by the lounge in his new company, or how his assistant is actually a college student, always dressed with fiery red hair and kohl eyes—but at the same time, opening his mouth to animatedly narrate his life update is kind of energy-draining.

Fortunately, Seungcheol and Jeonghan leaves the updating for another day with the warning of ‘you’re going to tell us all of the details next week when we meet again or else,’ and goes off to argue about which scented invitation smelled better.

A good hour has passed, and Seungcheol and Jeonghan acquaint themselves by the shelves of ornaments, discussing whether they should hold a beach wedding or just a simple church wedding. Jihoon, in the duration of the day, finds out his purpose as to why he was invited. It was to sedate both of them just in case they’d murder each other with a bread knife meant for wedding cakes.

The wedding planner, namely Lee Minhyuk, looks at him with a glint of excitement in his eyes, a huge smile never leaving his mouth. He kind of finds him weird, but his presence is pleasant overall, so he smiles back just as politely, hands folded on his lap, unknowing of what to do next.

“So,” Minhyuk starts. “It’s been a while, Lee Jihoon.”

Jihoon frowns. It isn’t really a usual thing to say, especially when you’ve just met someone. “Um,” he says awkwardly. “Am I supposed to know you?”

Minhyuk blinks, clutching his chest dramatically. “I’m hurt! So incredibly hurt! You haven’t even responded to the reunion email, which by the way, I’m handling!” he says, thereafter deflating. “But it has literally been like five or six years, so it’s kind of expected. We went to the same university. I was in the same frat as Seungcheol and Jeonghan, though he was more of like an honorary member,” he claps his hands. “And Soonyoung! How could I forget that douche?”

Soonyoung?

Jihoon’s heart pounds. “Soonyoung? As in…Kwon Soonyoung?”

It was Minhyuk’s turn to frown at him, laughing as if he made the biggest joke in the entire universe. “Yeah, of course, Kwon Soonyoung! Remember? _Your_ Kwon Soonyoung? I heard some of my old frat mates that it was just recently that they saw you two together—if you consider last year as recent, that is. Perhaps you two are staying strong?”

“No…we, uh, we broke up last year,” Jihoon says, trying to keep up. “How did you know him?”

“Jihoon, are you okay?” Minhyuk barks another laugh. “I just told you. We were frat mates along with Seungcheol back in college! And that’s a shame. Ever since you guys were freshmen, I’ve been wondering when will be _the_ wedding day, since you two got engaged and all later. Unfortunately, I wasn’t there to witness all of it. I graduated earlier than you guys and went abroad.”

“We got engaged?” Jihoon feels his eyes sting, heart heavy from the revelation, almost unbelieving of the words coming out of Minhyuk’s mouth, a stranger at that, filling him the most important details of his past. Something his friends didn’t do. And Soonyoung. “We got engaged during college? We were together during college?”

“Yeah?” Minhyuk says. “Oh, and I have a video somewhere right here,” he turns to his laptop. “It was meant to be for a compilation for the reunion party, but I think you should see it as early as now.”

Jeonghan and Seungcheol aren’t by the shelves anymore, reasonings floating off through the door of the stock room, where they moved their argument. The video starts playing, the first few seconds painted with black. And then, the screen reveals Soonyoung, whose ears are that of a silver constellation with his piercings, wearing a faded muscle tee.  

 _“Soonyoung, my boy! How’s it going?”_  asks Minhyuk in the video.

_“I’m doing great, thanks.”_

Jihoon’s heart aches. It has been so long since he has heard Soonyoung’s voice, let alone allow himself to indulge his curvatures, the way his eyes lit, and the way he moved—even if it was just through a video. There’s an irritation by the bridge of his nose, fully knowing that along with it, comes the tears that itched to fall. He watches Soonyoung in college, a frat boy, who can’t seem to let go of the red cup in his hand.

_“Okay, got any message for someone special out there? Like your Jihoonie? It should really be serious, okay!”_

Jihoon covers his mouth with his hand, feeling white, hot tears run on his fingers. Minhyuk must’ve said something to calm him down, and the door behind him must’ve creaked, revealing a distraught Seungcheol and Jeonghan. He doesn’t hear anything but Soonyoung’s words in the video, and it's as if he spoke right through him, right through the present Jihoon.

 _“Hey, Lee Jihoon, one day you’re going to find this video, and I just want you to know that—”_ he smiles. _“You’re the best thing that ever happened to me. And even if you forget that, I’ll make you remember.”_

 

 

***

 

 

 

A WEEK LATER

 

If there’s one thing Soonyoung missed about Japan, it’s the spring and the mundane March that came as a package. He missed his Mother, too, who checks up on him every once in a while. He’s not sure about his Father, though. And most definitely, he missed his little brother, who flew way above the clouds, one with the stars.

He finishes his paperwork past midnight along with the watery, iced coffee he made for himself. Minutes later, after he just placed the empty mug on the sink for washing, the small solitude he called habitually is disturbed. He frowns at the rapid door bell ringing in his apartment, wondering who in the right mind would visit him past midnight. He carefully pads down the step, careful to not trip over the unpaired shoes scattered on the welcome mat, and slowly opens the door.

“Jihoon?” Soonyoung breathes.  

 

***

 

 

_(You’re the worst drunk ever, too, you know, but even so, I’ll still carry you home.)_

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank god for lee minhyuk
> 
> 2 chapters left!!!! 
> 
> I'm so sad that this fic is almost coming to an end :( ++ thank you all for reading and I hope you'd bear with these two idiots until the end :D
> 
> I'm sorry that I just updated right now, school has been draining the life out of me
> 
> Kudos and comments are very much appreciated!!! yey


	14. Chapter 14

“Five sugar cubes will do. No cream.” Jihoon instructs, a crease forming between his brows. “I like my coffee that way, yours is too bland, so I’m not going to have any of that anymore,” he says lightly. His assistant—the college student—seems out of it lately. Other than the bland coffee fiasco (as he would like to call it), his appointing is out of place, and he often spends his time by the lounge, flipping ring-bind reviewers, rather than the papers he should be arranging on his desk, fronting Jihoon’s office.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Jinsung apologizes. “It’s just, midterms are around the corner, and I have to—you know—”

“It’s fine. I’m not a totalitarian, you know,” Jihoon says. “I’m just telling you how I like my coffee, since I’m going to have you make it at least thrice a day,” he hops on the counter, and swings his feet against the cupboard below. “Which means, no more trips to the convenience stores, and convincing the clerk you are of age to buy alcohol and whatnot.”

“So,” Jinsung beams, placing away his reviewer and highlighters. “No more alcohol?”

“Yeah, no more alcohol.”

“That’s nice, sir! I mean, I’m not exactly against drinking, you know? But it’s really bad for the liver if you drink _too much_. No offense, but from what I’ve seen, sir, is that you have been—”

Jihoon holds his hand up. “I get it.”

“Sorry,” Jinsung says. “Uh, I attended a frat party once. People get weird with alcohol.” He fidgets, almost embarrassed. He doesn’t expect such a reaction from a sophomore in college, but from Jinsung, he might as well. “I didn’t drink too much, though. I do stupid things when I’m drunk, so no thanks.”

“And that would be?”

“I would’ve called my ex? Even if he was such an asshat to me,” that’s probably the closest curse word—it wasn’t even really—that he could ever hear from Jinsung’s mouth. “I still see him around campus. It sucks sometimes, but you know,” he grins shyly, almost sad. “Pain is inevitable when it comes to love. Dealing with it, however, it’s just up to us.”

“You’re right,” Jihoon says thoughtfully. “Say, Jinsung, I’m going to ask you a question, and I want you to answer honestly.”

“Okay, sir, as long as you don’t fire me.”

Jihoon laughs at that, and then clears his throat. “What if you have amnesia? And it’s like, a complete wipeout. You don’t remember anything but bits and pieces of your childhood, though they’re not really significant, and two of your best friends starting an orgy at a frat party. Then, years later, you meet this guy. He’s the most amazing guy you’ve ever met, despite people telling you otherwise. Even after hurting you, leaving you, lying to you. And what hurts the most is that you’ve been with this guy before, back in college, and he never told you. Your friends didn’t either, even your ex-fubu,” he cards his fingers through his hair. “And this guy left you again. What would you do? Would you still run after him, and tell him you’re so fucking mad and upset, because despite everything he has done, you still love him, _or_ you’d just let it go and move on with your life?”

Jinsung blinks at him.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon says. “That was too much, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer anymore, it’s fine.” He doesn’t feel bad for exposing his woes to Jinsung, though, since the younger often chaperones him when he drinks, dragging him all the way to his penthouse even if it’s out of his job scope.  

“But I want to answer, sir,” Jinsung says. “If you don’t mind.”

“Okay, sure,” he doesn’t belittle him of his age, either. Like, it doesn’t matter if he’s asking advice from someone years younger than him, because love comes either spouting from the fountain of youth or the ends of a fruit tree. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s the Soonyoung guy, isn’t it?” he asks carefully. “You’d always mumble his name when you’re drunk—tried to call him once even, but then you realized he was already living in Japan, so everything kinda just went down from there.”

“Is that how I broke my phone?”

“Yeah, in loving memory of. You threw it at the elevator door.”

Jihoon cups his brand-new phone in his pocket, alive and well, and free from Soonyoung’s number. “Anyway, you were saying?”

“You didn’t break your phone, because that Soonyoung guy wouldn’t answer your calls. You broke it because you were—quote-unquote—tired of staring at his photos. Before breaking your own phone, though, you were still so adamant about keeping all of his pictures. I suggested you to delete some of it, but,” he bites his lower lip. “You told me you might just forget his face, and that you’re tired of forgetting things—even _him_ —even when he’s the reason why you’ve been hurting so much.”

Jihoon nods, and for a moment, Jinsung conspires that he wasn’t really drunk that night—that he had been sober all along, and that maybe he just needed to cry with the excuse of alcohol. He says, with the smallest hint of a smile—a sad one, “even if you try to suggest it to me whilst me being at a sober state, I’d still say the same thing,” he hops off the counter. “And being the masochist I am, the photos are still backed up. Technology is quite convenient nowadays, isn’t it?”

“Hyung,” Jinsung says. “If you love being a masochist so much, then why not just go all the way?”

 

 

He’s not mad at Seungcheol and Jeonghan, to be honest. Betrayed? Maybe. A little taken aback? Not little—he was _very much_ , in a huge scale.

The funny thing is, he’s trying his best to move on, even going as far as to forget, when it has been the sole reason why he’s suffering. And he lived with it, succumb into it, and let the bliss consume him. It was better to accept things the way they are, is it not? But _no_ , reality fucking bites him; the rest of his supposed process are all written down in fine print, and then thrown into a trash bin, crumpled with 19th century ink, trickling down his fingers as if the words were never there in the first place.

“I’m sorry,” is the first thing that comes out of Seungcheol’s mouth when he bolted out of Minhyuk’s office, Jeonghan following behind, except he’s calling his name for him to stop. _Stop walking, stop, you have to hear this._ “Jihoon, listen to us.”

“You did it because of Soonyoung,” he says, clutching his car keys. “It’s because he told you to not tell me. For what reason?”

“His parents,” Seungcheol says, frantic and afraid. “It’s his parents, and Jihoon— _shit_ , we’ll explain everything—”

“ _I knew.”_

“What?”

“I knew,” he repeats. “I knew I knew Soonyoung back before all of this,” he gestures to the building. “I knew but I just didn’t believe it.”

He continues, “his mother called me last year, back when I spent a week in Busan because of Jimin hyung’s funeral,” he still remembers her voice: smooth and firm, held with an upright stature. “She didn’t say much, but she told me to let Soonyoung go, that I’ve been holding him back for the past few years.” He bites his lower lip, “of course, I didn’t listen. I was confused, yes, but then I thought, no matter what the circumstances are—even if that ‘past few years’ amounts to me knowing Soonyoung before—I shouldn’t let him go. I rushed home, went to the venue of his dance showcase only to find out that it’d been done a few months ago. I went home and that’s when he broke up with me.”

He throws the car keys to Seungcheol, gesturing the both of them to get in the car. “Take me to the place where I lost my memories. I deserve that much.”

 

 

Jihoon had hoped he’d experience a simple love story. He meets someone, they’d fall in love, and live happily ever after. Almost like a fairytale, except it doesn’t involve magic or fairy godmothers. He’d have this, the non-fairytale like one, any other day.

Seungcheol took the wheel, Jeonghan on the shotgun seat, while him at the back. It’s Jeonghan who explains, “Soonyoung had a little brother.”

“He never told me…” actually, Soonyoung doesn’t really talk about anything that involves his family at all. There was a time where Jihoon suggested meeting his parents, but he had quickly dismissed the idea.

“It hurts for him to talk about it,” Jeonghan says. “Actually, it hurts for me, too, but desperate times call for desperate measures.” He takes a deep breath, “I’m his _step-_ cousin, to be exact. His step-mother, the one who talked to you, is my mother’s sister. Soonyoung’s family had always lived in Japan, and there are times when we’d visit them, especially during the holidays. Soonyoung, as a child, didn’t talk much. He liked to put himself in a corner, playing with his toys, and just watching people.

So, of course, I talked to him. Our ages were close, and uncle told me his Korean was good. I could tell too, at least, from the small words he’d utter. But one thing that struck me the most was when I asked him what love was to him. It was such an innocent thing, because we were around six or seven around that time, and I’d always hear my parents say it to each other. I asked him, and you know what he told me?” he feels his eyes sting, Seungcheol reaching to grip his hands. “He told me, ‘love is when my little brother laughs.’”

He continues, “I didn’t understand what he meant, because it sounded absurd to me as a child. But there are times he’d go to his little brother to play, and he’d always let him win. Despite being only half-brothers, Soonyoung loved him wholly.”

“But then what happened?”

“I told you, Soonyoung is quiet as a child, so he doesn’t really ask his parents for anything,” Jeonghan says. “The one time he did was when he asked them to go to an amusement park, because it was his little brother’s birthday, and he thought it’d be nice. His parents thought that, too, so they drove— _and_ they got into an accident. All of them survived except for his little brother. Soonyoung has been blaming himself ever since,” he turns to look at Jihoon. “Just like how he blames himself for your accident.”

 

 

They don’t go to the place where he lost his memories first—a theater, they said—Seungcheol drives around the university they attended, the same one Soonyoung showed him around to during last year’s Valentines. He learns of the condominium he stayed in, courtesy of his brother’s, and then onto the place where he and Soonyoung moved in altogether back during their Sophomore year.

Seungcheol stops in front of a bubble tea shop, then, saying that he used to work there.

“Do you want to greet the owner? I think she’s still around.”

Seungcheol and Jeonghan stay inside the car. He hops off, fidgeting when nostalgia doesn’t hit him. He doesn’t remember this place, not at all. But this place might as well remember him, so he revels. He used to walk this street, dealing with wages, and getting orders right.

There are a few college students in the shop, bubble teas on the side of their research papers. It’s nearing night time already, and while Jihoon doesn’t have the privilege of learning about college, about what it’s like, he tries to understand. He enters the shop warily, slowly padding towards the counter. A girl perks up and asks how she may help him.

“Is the owner around?”

“Uhm, sir,” the girl frowns, confused, afraid that maybe there was a mishap in the orders that he needed to call for the owner for a good scolding. God knows it happens once in a while. “Is there a problem?”

“No, I just want to meet the owner. I used to work here during college.”

“Okay,” the girl says easily. “I’ll call for Mrs. Kim. What’s your name?”

“Lee Jihoon.”

The girl disappears to the back door. Jihoon moves aside for the new customers to step in line. A minute later, the girl reappears, aiding the counter hurriedly. The old lady—Mrs. Kim—stares at him, and for a moment Jihoon thought that the owner Seungcheol and Jeonghan were talking about was gone already. But this woman takes careful steps towards him and envelops him in a tight hug.

“Jihoon-ah, it’s been a long time since I’ve seen you,” she says, eyes glistening. “What brought you here? Do you, perhaps, remember now?”

“No,” he shakes his head, answering truthfully. “It’s just now that Seungcheol and Jeonghan told me that I used to work here.”

“Ah, Seungcheol and Jeonghan, those two. I would always kick them out for kissing too much here in my shop,” Mrs. Kim says wistfully. “Now, come, my place is just above the stairs.” They go to the backdoor, Mrs. Kim leading him while they climbed the stairs. The place isn’t shabby. It’s small but homey, comfortable and warm. She gestures for him to sit on the couch, making him wonder if she’s this hospitable with strangers.

“You aren’t a stranger, Jihoon,” Mrs. Kim assures. “And no, you didn’t say anything aloud, but from the way you are fidgeting, I just assumed you were thinking of it. You used to sleep on the very couch you’re sitting whenever you’d take the night shift, especially when there’s a storm.”

“Milktea? It’s for free,” she offers. “Or water?”

“Just water, thank you,” he replies, cringing how he found his voice so small. Well, considering from the revelation he’s gone through, and will go through this day, he at least, goes easy on himself.

“Feel at home, alright?” the sides of Mrs. Kim’s eyes wrinkle when she smiles, her red lipstick applied perfectly, wrists decorated with different kinds of bracelets—beaded, while the others are just bands. “Where’s Seungcheol and Jeonghan? Are they with you?”

“Yeah, they’re with me. They’re in the car, though.”

He falls silent, then, unsure of what to say. He just came by to say hello, but he finds himself wanting to ask questions from her, too. She goes first, though.

“How about Soonyoung?” she asks carefully. “That rascal would always bother you, but I always knew you would fall for him in the end.”

“We broke up,” he laughs half-heartedly. “Actually, it’s also just now that I learned that he was a part of my life before, back in college,” he doesn’t expect Mrs. Kim to say anything, so he explains, “we met again, but I didn’t know we used to be together. We got together again, and then we broke up.”

“You two are the reason why this shop kept on going, you know,” Mrs. Kim reveals. “Back then, there was a time where business wasn’t at peak, and there weren’t much customers anymore. I was on the verge of closing the shop down, but he just went and said— _no, Mrs. Kim! You shouldn’t give up!_ The day after, he had his whole fraternity enter the shop and buy bubble teas from us. He even helped us serve. Later, I asked him why he did that, even if I knew what he’d say. He didn’t disappoint, because just as I expected, he did it because he was afraid that you might lose your job.”

 

 

Mrs. Kim gives them free bubble teas, and wishes them a safe trip. She gives Seungcheol and Jeonghan a last-minute scolding of keeping their hands to themselves in public, learning that until now, as adults, they still can’t do such a thing. With Jihoon, she says, _there must’ve been a reason why you two keep coming back to each other._

He kept thinking about that in the car ride. It was quiet for a while, just the engine smoothly rumbling, while Jeonghan finished his taro bubble tea ‘til the very last pearl. Seungcheol then says, “it’s literally a trip down to memory lane.”

“Jesus Christ,”

“What a way to break the mood.”

“What!” Seungcheol defends himself. “It’s true.”

“Well, you’re right,” Jihoon says, staring out the window. Seungcheol turns to an empty street, parking near a curb. It’s night time already, but Jihoon could well see a function hall right across the bright convenience store. Seungcheol then points to the space in between both buildings. “You were late for his dance showcase. You bought something from that convenience store, ran across the street, and got hit by a car. The university’s hospital is just somewhere around the corner. You were confined there, not until we had enough money to move you to a bigger one,” Seungcheol says. “It’s just recently that we learned it was Soonyoung’s parents’ money. He doesn’t ask anything from his parents, but he did it. For you. The consequence was that he needed to live in Japan with them. That’s part of the reason why he left.”

“The other is that he felt like you were better off not remembering him. I don’t know the reason behind his sentiment, but I think that’s for you to find out.” Jeonghan pleads, “so, Jihoon, please don’t give up on him.”

 

***

 

“Jinsung?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Can you please book me a ticket to Japan?”

Jinsung smiles. “Of course.”

 

 

***

 

 

He took a night flight as it’s the only next available booking Jinsung could get his hands on with help of his Mother who worked in the airlines.

Getting Soonyoung’s address was easy, much thanks to Wonwoo, who helped him get Junhui’s number, and Junhui, who helped him get Soonyoung’s address. Junhui had told him that he’s staying at an apartment still, and that the building isn’t all that outlandish, but it’s façade is enough to indicate that rich people resided there.   

While packing for a two-day stay with clothes a heap doubled, just in case, he texts his brother about flying to Japan, but not for the sole purpose of asking for his permission. He expected him to stop him, though, to say that Soonyoung isn’t worth it anymore—he does, actually, but then:

_you know he isn’t worth your time anymore_

_but if you really want it_

_or if you think this will make you happy_

_by being with him, that is…_

_then by all means, go. take care, be safe, and don’t forget to bring the scrapbook with you. It’s important. text me when you land_

He boards the plane, the crew announcing over the PA to enjoy their 2-hour and 15-minute flight. He’d arrive the country at around midnight, and while he should sleep to alleviate the jet lag that will creep onto him, he opts to cater the scrapbook in his bag. From his feet, he leans in to reach for it, thankful that he’s in business class and that he’s not bothering anyone from the commotion.

He isn’t ready for it. No one ever is for this kind of revelation, really. But he thinks that it’s the perfect moment to read it. He’s been hearing stories from other people about his past, it’s about time he should hear it from himself.

His name, university, professor and schedule are written on the front page, indicating that the scrapbook had been a project. He could tell that he made it with effort, because he used foam stickers to complete the words, all decorated with shape cut-outs on the edges.

_Phenomenology of Identities_

_These are the most important people in my life, and I would be very much happy if they stayed with me in the long run._

He flips to the next page.

_Family._

_My parents are running a fishing company back home, so I’ve always been accustomed to the beach and from sailing small boats. I love my family wholeheartedly; my Mother is charming, my Father might not be the best father around, but he’s trying to make the effort to make up for all the things he had done, especially to my Mother. That counts for me. And my brother, who never left my side._

_It’s not until I’ve decided to move to the city for the last year of high school and college with my best friend. So naturally, they provided me with financial aid, but I’ve been always against about leeching off from their bank account. With that, I became more responsible and independent yet at the same time loving and understanding._

Page three. _Choi Seungcheol_.

_He’s my best friend. The first time we interacted, I stabbed him with a pencil. He cried for hours, so I thought how much of a loser he was despite being a year older. He’s been with me through ups and downs, and I’m sure he knows me more than I know myself. I love him very dearly and I can’t imagine my life without him. He taught me what real friendship was._

Page four. _Yoon Jeonghan._

_It’s just recently that I met Jeonghan, but over a short period of time (compared from Seungcheol and my family), he became very important to me. He and Seungcheol are together, and have been in love with each other for a very long time, ever since high school, when Seungcheol moved to the city. So naturally, we hung out. We were awkward at first, and I thought I wouldn’t click with him. Ever. Even during college when he and Seungcheol weren’t together yet. (That didn’t stop me from rooting for him, though.)_

_But he stayed constant, always saying that he wanted to get closer with me. He’s a true friend, and I’m glad I have him by my side._

Page five. _Kwon Soonyoung._

He clutches the scrapbook tightly, doing it a favor by wiping his tears so that it wouldn’t stain the pages. Like the others, it’s a polaroid picture, probably taken by an Instax. In the photo, he was sipping bubble tea, pouting with a straw in between his lips.

  _I have so much to say about this guy._

_To start off, I love him. I probably love him more than he loves me, but I don’t tell him that. We got together only yesterday, and it was the happiest moment of my life._

_I hated him at first, though. Before, just the mention of his name is enough to make me shudder. Even during roll-calls by our professors. To me, his name meant trouble and all kinds of absurdity. I can’t even imagine being a foot near him._

_But then, we were grouped together. He didn’t pass his report. Actually, no one in my group did. Left with no choice as Kwon didn’t even budge when I followed him to a frat party, I had to make the whole presentation myself. During the day of the presentation, I was surprised that he had the whole topic memorized. Silently, ever since this, I started to notice him in a different light._

_I fell in love with him when he brought his whole frat to the bubble tea shop I worked in. Mrs. Kim was going to close it down, but the sudden influx of customers became enough for it to keep going. Soonyoung told me he was afraid that I might lose my job. He was looking out for me, he always was, and that itself was enough to make my heart soar._

_Actually, I liked him before that. Even before he carried me home from that one frat party when Seungcheol and Jeonghan started an…orgy._

_I didn’t know what I did in my past life to deserve him. I don’t deserve him. I will always love him. I love him. Holy shit, I love him too much it scares me. I’m not asking for much, but I hope it’s him that I will spend the rest of my life with._

_I told myself I’d fall in love with someone who reminds me of home, of the beach, of the sea. I learned that it doesn’t necessarily have to be like that. Home comes in different forms. Soonyoung smells like the city, and sometimes alcohol, but most of the time like men’s perfume brought random at a department store, but nonetheless, he’s home. He’s home to me._

Page six. _Disclaimer._

_This isn’t for a project. I just put the usual protocol of what a project should look like at the front page, so that if anyone else other than me comes across this, they wouldn’t take much interest in it. But if I, in the future, have reached this point, it’s a reminder that I’ve done this with all personal means._

_I know that there will be times where I’d feel so worn out, insecure, and that I'd have no one in my life. But this scrapbook will remind me that I have people who loves me for who I am, and that I shouldn’t be scared of loving. One day I’ll find this when I’ve forgotten what it’s like to feel. I hope that day wouldn’t come. But just in case._

_With this, I can remember my family, my friends, and what they had done for me. I will keep these memories tucked inside my heart—even if some are the causes of my pain; most are lovely anyway, so I am contented._

_I only decided to make this yesterday when I told Soonyoung I loved him the first time. His face, his laugh, and the way he kissed me…I want to remember it forever._

***

Jet lag, inevitably, bites him in the ass, and it’s only when he’s met with the taxi’s cushion that he realizes it. Jinsung had booked him a hotel as well, saying that it comes with the package of the trip, but all he could think about at the moment is getting to Soonyoung.

He does, at a matter of time, at midnight specifically. The condominium’s building is lit from the 24/7 stores on the ground floor, and from the lobby. When he enters, a guard asks the purpose of his visit. He said it’s to visit a friend, all prepared with the apartment number, thanks to Junhui’s prep.

The guard allows him to enter. He rides the elevator, struggling with his bag. He isn’t a friend to exhaustion anymore, because of the jitter in his veins. The elevator dings a few seconds after, and right in front of him lies an empty hallway, and a carpeted floor. Slowly, knees slightly wobbling, he walks right in front of Soonyoung’s door, double checking if he got it right with the address Junhui gave him.

He knocks.

He hears a grumble behind the door, and then the knob clicks, hinges creaking. And—

There he was.

Jihoon feels his heart stop, knuckles turning white from gripping the strap of the bag. It’d been a year, but for him, it felt like an eternity that crumbled with all the silver linings it could offer; eternities aren’t always that great, he learns.

“Jihoon?” Soonyoung breathes.

“Uhm,” he says, throat hitching. “Yeah?”

“Okay, fuck, I’m hallucinating—” he backs away and pushes the door close, but Jihoon stucks a foot in. “Goodbye.”

“No, you’re not hallucinating. This is real. I’m real.”

“That’s what hallucinations usually say,” his voice is so small, almost clogged up like his’.

“Then I’m going to prove how real I am by kicking your ass,” Jihoon says. Soonyoung expects a blow to hit, but then Jihoon just walks right up at him, and wraps his arms around his waist. “I’m supposed to be mad at you, and that I should’ve moved on already, but I miss you every day and there wasn’t a time that I didn’t think about you.” he buries his head on Soonyoung’s shoulder. “You don’t have to hug me back. Just please let me stay in your arms for a while.”

 

***

 

“I’m sorry, the place is really messy, I just,” he gathers his paperwork, placing it under the coffee table along with magazines and old newspapers. “I was doing work, and—”

“Why are you so nervous?” Jihoon asks, putting down his bag, sitting on the couch. “I’m not going to castrate you or anything. I’d want you back in one piece.”

Soonyoung purses his lips, sitting across him. “And it’s fine,” Jihoon continues. “My place is just as messy.”

“You moved out of the apartment?”

Jihoon nods, sipping the green tea Soonyoung prepared for him, fingers thrumming against the cup. “I thought it would help me move on from you,” he looks at him. “But look at where I am right now.”

“Why are you doing this?” Soonyoung asks, voice somewhat wistful. “Jihoon, I hurt you. I lied to you. You should hate me and just forget about me. You don’t deserve this.”

“Forget you? Just like how I forgot about you after the accident?” Jihoon feels his tears fall, running down his cheeks. “Why would I want to hurt myself like that again?”

“You know.” It’s a statement, but he didn’t seem all too surprised. “Doesn’t that make you hate me even more?”

“No,” Jihoon answers swiftly. “Frustrated, yes. Mad, but only at first. Hate you? Never. You’d have to spend a lifetime trying to make me hate you. No matter what you’d do or what I’d do, I’d still love you.”

“Jihoon, I did it for us. I did it for you. I don’t want you to be with someone who ruined your life. It’s because of me that you lost your memories. How can you not hate me after that?”

“Jeonghan hyung told me that you had a little brother,” Jihoon says. “And that you blamed yourself for his death. Don’t be mad at him that he told me, alright? It was a desperate time, and I just needed to understand.”

“It’s fine. I told you about it before,” Soonyoung says. “Jihoon, you deserve so much more. When I left for Japan the first time, I thought you were better off without me—”

“You’re selfish, you know that? You decide all of these things yourself. Why didn’t you even wait for me to wake up? And I’m not better off without you, you know why?” he clutches his chest. “Because when I met you, something inside me told me that I’ve always loved you.”

Soonyoung stands up. “In the bathroom, if you turn the knob to the left, you’ll get hot water. You can stay the night, and then leave the next morning.”

“I went to the place where I lost my memories,” Jihoon cuts off. “I screamed, told my past self that it was about time to not live under his shadows, that he’s a part of me—just as much as you’re a part of my life.” He fumbles for something inside his bag. He zips the first pocket open, bringing out a scented envelope. “Soonyoung, I’m not asking you to come back to Korea. I’m just asking you to come back to me.”

When Soonyoung doesn’t say anything, he takes a step forward. “It’s not true, isn’t it? You were lying when you told me you didn’t love me anymore. No, you did it because you loved me,” Jihoon says. “I made this scrapbook. It said there, I’d probably fall in love with someone who smells like home, who smells like the beach, the sea. But you smelled like the city, and sometimes alcohol or perfume, but you’re still home to me,” he reaches for Soonyoung’s hand, lacing his fingers in between his’. “Soonyoung, I’ve given up on a lot of things. I’ve given up on trying to remember, I’ve given up on therapies, I’ve given up on my past. And if there’s one more thing I should give up on, Soonyoung, it’s not you. Never you.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> welp, that's the second to the last chapter! ;mmmm; it feels so surreal that this fic is ending ;mmm; it was around this time last year that I started writing it 
> 
> jinsung and mrs kim are ocs, so they do not resemble any jinsung or mrs kim irl
> 
> some qs: whats in the scented envelope?? are they going to end up together??? stay tuned
> 
> thank u so much for reading this fic. I feel like I'm going to bawl when writing the end notes for the last chapter. I love y'all!!! <3  
> (oh and throughout this chap, most are dialogues bc when it comes to revealing the past, present!jihoon would be an unreliable narrator, I hope y'all didn't mind)
> 
> ALSO THE CLEAN (perfume) PHOTOCARD OF SOONHOON LOOKS LIKE A PRENUP GOD BLESS


	15. Chapter 15

Soonyoung has pretty much everything within arms’ reach—the beeping alarm clock, his phone, and the heater’s remote. The word ‘everything’ seems too much, though, bordering exaggeration, because right at this moment, Jihoon’s nowhere to be found. Jihoon, in replacement of ‘everything,’ aligns with his definition. Maybe, there is actually nothing within his arms' reach, and he’s sure that there hasn’t been for the past years.

But as far as materialism can go, he opts to the ideology, and accepts the crushing weight of reality. It’s a gloomy morning, he could tell, the aftermath of rain evident from how the droplets stuck to his window—an unannounced race of who falls first, gathered by the window sill until they’d dry. In the end, they turn into just a speck of dust, quite not there but still existing. Soonyoung feels just the same.  

His ears are already a friend to the alarm clock’s beeping. It’s efficiency lasts for a week, finding residence in a higher place, where he would even get a chair to stand on just to turn it off. However, Soonyoung still takes the waking in his system as a medicine that never really does its job, much like the sleepless nights he spends on work in light of moving on with his life; the paperwork, his Father’s words, and the responsibility for something beyond his control are all prices of what he has done. He sometimes asks himself if it’s worth it, and at one point, he tells himself that it is even if he felt otherwise.

His apartment becomes a hotel for Jihoon, and it has been two days ever since he arrived. Yesterday, he wakes up to him cooking breakfast as if they were back in their old home, but today, his scent just lingers on the bedsheet. Jihoon’s flight back to Korea is today and Soonyoung knows he hasn’t left yet, because his bag is still sitting atop the drawer beside his cabinet.

“I can’t go back emptyhanded,” Jihoon says in his return, while Soonyoung just finished taking a bath. He’s carrying two paper bags full of goods and chocolates, stuffing each product inside a separate suitcase. “They told me to bring lots of food and souvenirs, but the convenient store downstairs is the closest shop I could find, so they might as well deal with whatever I’m bringing.”

“What time’s your flight?”

“Later tonight, but I have to go as early as now,” he says, pursing his lips. “They also told me to bring you home, but we can’t have that now, right?”

“I’m sorry,” he pauses. “I really am.”

“Don’t say that,” Jihoon zips the suitcase close, lifting the handle for it to sit up. “It’s fine. I respect your decision.”

“I’ll drive you to the airport,” Soonyoung offers, except his tone is sealed. “Please let me.”

Jihoon nods wordlessly. And he stays silent like that all throughout the drive, thumping his head against the window, sighing in every minute. Soonyoung knows he shouldn’t say anything, albeit the urge to. It’s not just through words that he wants to convey something—a physical contact, a sense of familiarity, and what never really left: Jihoon’s everlasting presence in his heart.

Sometimes, the saddest moment in your life doesn’t involve crying. It involves silence, soft footsteps, and imprints of all the finalities that could ever exist in the universe—or maybe, just an apartment back in Seoul. Soonyoung thought that this is it. That moment. Both of them will remember.

Jihoon steps forward, wrapping his arms around him. Soonyoung feels the lump in his throat as he reciprocates Jihoon’s touch. The airport bustles with life, and oftentimes, there are goodbyes. Some temporary, some permanent. In that census, they fall in the latter, an act of letting someone go and leaving someone behind. The words _I love you_ hangs off his tongue, and how he pressed Jihoon closer to him, it must’ve fallen somewhere between their coats. 

“Thank you for giving me the privilege to be in your arms once again—right here, even if it’s just for a few seconds, and yesterday night where you held me until I fell asleep. It made me the happiest than I have been all year.”

“Have a safe flight,” he whispers, stepping back.

“The envelope,” Jihoon brings up, squeezing his hand. Tears form in his eyes, and they fall, like the droplets on his window. “I’ll wait for you. You might not come back for a long time or forever, but I can’t help but wanting to wait for you. When you check the envelope, there’s a date, and I might’ve already moved on around that time, but I know— _I’ll remember_ —that you will always have a place in my heart, and even if you do go and push me away, just give me a nod and I’ll get the message. But when you feel like coming back, you don’t even have to say anything. You can just hold my hand and I would understand.”

 

***

 

November creeps like a cold with unprepared remedy. Soonyoung doesn’t really know what to make out of it when his Father calls him to his office. He hopes, just like the others, it’s something related to work, but the chances of it happening are slim. He sighs, punching in the floor of his Father’s office in the elevator, hearing an almost inaudible Christmas song playing in the background. As early as now, the company’s at least making an effort of an unprecedented Christmas spirit through elevator music, and hand-me-down Christmas trees from the stock room. However, the people, not so much. They stay cooped in their cubicles, typing away legalities or whatever figures the company need to thrive. It’s like a work-home-work system. Soonyoung’s job is to oversee the whole department.

He met Momo a while back, all packed with an apology for missing her wedding. She isn’t the type to hold such a thing against him, since well, she understood. The dance studio is doing fine, and it’s great now that they’ve got sponsors. Some students are even equipped to compete internationally, which is a great form of publicity, since the amount of enrollees hiked up within that time frame. Soonyoung wishes he had the time to visit or to even guest as an instructor, but he has long been drowned with paperwork that he doesn’t have the slightest time for himself anymore. Not that he needed it anyway. It’s good to keep himself busy.

His family’s the same as ever. Their weekly dinners are quiet, driven out of their own jobs. Sometimes his Mother brings up a topic she came across in this magazine, and sometimes his Father asks something about work. It has been like this for pretty much all his life. Pre-little brother and post-little brother, a division so big that no any other label can even begin to challenge. And it’s his fault—how his Mother’s laughter comes into an abrupt halt and how the crease between his Father’s eyebrows never seems to leave.

And Jihoon—he tries not to think about him, but alas, it’s what creeps up his thoughts most of the time if he’s not purposely accepting more and more responsibilities in the company. He’d been willing himself to cope of the possible reality that Jihoon had already moved on. There’s something paradoxical with it: he thinks that it’s better if he does so, but at the same time, Soonyoung feels like not letting go. In a situation like this, he compromises, and it just boils down to keeping the memory ablaze in hopes of not pulling Jihoon back with it. He wants him to be happy—so happy that he’d ask himself _why did he even get sad about Soonyoung in the first place?_

“Do you know why you’re here?”

“No,” Soonyoung answers, elbows resting on the top of his knees as he sat down.

“I meant, do you know why we wanted you back here?”

“Dad, you don’t have to bring it up,” Soonyoung says. “I would really appreciate it if you don’t.”

He ignores him. “It’s because we missed you.”

“What brought this up?” Soonyoung asks, toning his voice into an appropriate volume. “I’m here now, aren’t I?”

“That’s exactly the point,” his Father sighs, leaning back, lacing his hands against his stomach. There are traces of pain and lost in his face, and Soonyoung tries, _tries_ not to resemble his mistakes with it. Just this once. “You’re here now, but your Mother and I can tell how distant you are.”

“But I’m not…”

“We’re your parents,” his Father reminds lightly. “And you’re our son. We worry about you.”

Wounds run deep, and it still stings even when you’re an adult, like it isn’t a scar; it’s a fresh graze and it hurts every time you move. Sometimes it even stays when you’re nearing your 60s. “You don’t have to.”

“You can’t just tell us to not worry, because whether you like it or not, we’re still going to worry about you.”

“Why? When I was eight, you told me you guys were better off without a son like me! You told me you all can do just fine even if I’m not there back when I was in college!” he stands up, years of pent-up frustration, blowing off like a bomb fuse gone wrong. “How do you expect me to act when that’s all I’ve been hearing ever since I was a kid? And you _worry about me?_ Dad, don’t bullshit me. I believed you guys and I believe you even until now. I don’t hate the both of you, it’s just…It’s true. It’s true that I’m a—” he heaves a deep breath, wiping his tears quickly. “You know what, I think I have to go. I’m sorry.”

“I just wish you didn’t get that from me—running away from things you’re supposed to face,” his Father says before he could leave. “We, parents, make mistakes, too, you know. And not a day passed by that we didn’t regret what we did to you; for blaming you for something you didn’t even do, for something you didn’t even want to happen. We all miss Younggeun, we miss him every day, but we miss you, too. Soonyoung, our quiet son who had so much love to give, and until now, he still does.”

He has been antagonizing his parents for so long that he doesn’t realize that they’ve been there for him all this time, giving him the freedom to live his life yet wanting him to return to their embrace. He realizes how he left them for all these years, immense guilt clogging up his throat, eventually making its way to his eyes. It wasn’t the type of cry that can be stopped voluntarily; it’s a broken dam that would take years to fix.

His Father envelops him in a hug, one that has been postponed ever since he was an adolescent, almost left forgotten. But right now, his parent’s warmth was maybe all he needed.

“I heard your boy visited months ago. I’m still surprised that you’re here. _No_ , I want to ask you why you’re here when you could’ve gone back to him. I know you want to.” His Father says. “Did you know? Your Mother and I would always count how many times you’d reach out to us, and most of it had something to do with _him_. When you called us to aid his hospital fees a few years ago, we thought that it was the right time for you to come home, even at the end, it really wasn’t. Right now, he’s the same reason why you’re here, and it’s not because you had the initiative to take over the company when I retire.”

“I wanted to know what it’s like…to have you two around,” Soonyoung confesses—why he came back to Japan, and why he needed to let go of Jihoon. He felt like he was weighing him down with all his issues, and he lied to him. “I’m getting older and older, but every day I would wake up with the same burden I’ve had ever since I was a teenager. It’s not a matter of forgiving you two, it was a matter of forgiving myself for everything that happened. And I lied to Jihoon. He didn’t deserve that, and until now, he still doesn’t.”

“Then what do you think you deserve? None? It’s not something for you to solely decide upon. It takes time, but soon you’ll learn how scarce a person’s life is, and only then you’ll regret not being with them longer.” His Father advices with a wrinkled smile, and somewhere underneath it, comes the memory of his biological mother, who ran away and never looked back; the memory of Younggeun laughing under the clouds, holding a toy plane. “I’ve been beating myself up for all the mistakes I’ve done, including losing both of my sons, but then I thought, maybe it’s not too late to get the other one back. I love you, my son, and I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. Just know that from now on, I will support you with whatever; with whoever will make you happy.”

 

 

 

 

 

The envelope is tucked inside one of his pillows’ casing. Still dressed in his work attire, he fumbles for it, sitting on the edge of the bed, pausing to take in its scent, though it isn’t as strong as when Jihoon handed it to him.

Inside is a wedding invitation, a photo of Seungcheol and Jeonghan in sepia filter, hand-in-hand while they stood on a platform, fronting a waterfall.

_You are cordially invited to celebrate the marriage of Choi Seungcheol and Yoon Jeonghan_

_at 12 noon, on the 23 rd of December_

_Ritz-Carlton, Seoul_

 

He doesn’t miss the letter inside the card. Soonyoung shares the familiarity of the content, a memory out of the others, but for Jihoon, it’s all he could ever have.

_I only remember one significant memory. It’s that one frat party where Seungcheol and Jeonghan caused quite a scene. An orgy. It’s laughable, yes, but the memory is just so strong that it stuck in my mind even after the accident I had._

_I was talking to a guy. He wore a muscle tee and had many piercings, just like you, except most of them are closed now. I remember. You slept close enough to me that I could see it._

_Back to that guy…I’ve been looking for him. I thought that maybe I had a connection with him, and that maybe I loved him once._

_No, I loved him twice. The memory is as clear as day now. It was you who took me home that night._   

 

***

 

“Happy Birthday!”

It’s the most number of people he has seen in his penthouse, and had he not hire a helper who comes by once a month, the idea of having people in his humble abode would be such a foreign thing. He’d always scrutinize at how spacious his penthouse is, but right now, he reconsiders the sentiment. Jeonghan stands in the middle, holding a birthday cake wedged with a _28_ candle, while Seungcheol sports a pointed, glittered hat, yelling him the birthday song, off-tune, along with others, who clapped their way closer to him.

The next thing he knows, he’s being hogged by all of them whilst blowing the numerical candles with half-opened eyes and a meaningful wish, vision blurry from all the commotion. An icing must’ve made its way to his nose and cheeks, but he couldn’t care less. He wipes it on Seokmin’s shoulders, who held the back of his head, laughing. Serves him right. Later, it dawns upon the radio DJ that his striped sweatshirt is dirtied with icing, subsequently complaining about it for a good minute, yelling _you got icing on my clothes_ repeatedly, but doesn’t pull away.

When the momentum dies down, after shoving gifts to his chest with a hug or a kiss on the cheek (courtesy of Wonwoo and Seungkwan), most have resided to their own space, conversing with one another. It’s nice to see his old workmates blend with his new ones, drinks in their hands, loaded with business philosophies or a game of friendly bragging. Jihoon wonders where Seungcheol and Jeonghan got the time to plan such a party, since they’ve got their hands full with their own wedding. Jinsung is somewhere by the corner of the kitchen, aiding himself with a cup of iced coffee, while Seungkwan is off finishing his third shot of vodka with a chaser. 

“How could we not have time for you?” Seungcheol asks, almost rhetoric.

“Maybe because you and Jeonghan have been stressing about your wedding for like, months now.”

“We aren’t really stressed,” Seungcheol corrects. “Well, maybe, but the process is fun, you know? I mean, Jeonghan and I have been engaged for years now, and I think that marriage is just _another_ step for us. I don’t think much would change except for legalities, but you know, it’s nice to plan a part of you settling down with someone.”

Jihoon hums. “And the wedding invitations?”

“You know that’s long been taken care of—the design, I mean. We’re not really fussing about that except for its shipping. It’s going to be out in a week or so.” Seungcheol bites his lower lip. “As for the international shipping fees…”

“I asked Minhyuk for an early print and gave it to him when I visited him in Japan,” Jihoon sighs, feeling something in him deflate. It takes the strain on his shoulders, thereafter visibly sagging at the memory. The kids are going crazy somewhere within the corners of his house, and at one point, somehow, Jinsung found himself at the center of attention, bombarded by questions thanks to Mingyu and Chan. The latter is obviously happy about how he isn’t the youngest out of the bunch anymore, so he indulges himself with the quasi interrogation. Seokmin, however, takes the initiative to get the drinks away from Seungkwan’s reach, while Jeonghan pretty much helps everyone to come through.

“Hey, loosen up. It’s your birthday. Think about happy stuff, like for example, me going bald.”

Jihoon laughs. “Wow, some sacrifice right there.”

“That’s my duty as your best-est friend, and to be honest, I often feel the need to protect that title especially from Jeonghan.”

“Jeonghan’s my best friend and you’re my best-est friend. There. Happy?”

“Very much,” Seungcheol locks his arm around his head, and ruffles the top of his head with his knuckles, earning a yelp from Jihoon. “Fuck you, Seungcheol,” Jihoon spats, nursing his head the moment he was released from his grip.

“Yeah,” Seungcheol chuckles. “And Jihoon?”

“What.”

“It’s okay to be sad sometimes,” he says, “I know you’re waiting for him, and that you’re having a hard time doing so, because he hasn’t been giving you any form of communication. Eight months, Jihoon. It’s been eight months since you’ve last visited him in Japan, and I don’t know, I just can’t help being worried.”

“It’s fine,” Jihoon replies. His smile is sad. “I might be waiting for nothing. He might not come back at all. It’s really hard to explain, but I’ve got so much to hold onto, even if it hurts.”

“Are you sure that what you’re holding onto is good for you?”

The question _will Soonyoung ever come back?_ is something he often thinks about, and from conversations, it transcends through how are you’s, how have you been’s, how’s your new penthouse, and the ever blatant: how are you and Soonyoung. _I’m doing fine, I’ve been busy with work, it’s too big for one person_ , and silence; a close-lipped smile, eyes shifting to space. He could answer questions about Soonyoung’s antics—his likes, dislikes, and everything in between—but when it comes to that million-dollar question, if he’s ever going to come back or not, he stays silent or shifts the topic to something else.

He might’ve promised to wait for him, but sometimes, it really just gets so hard, and it hurts badly. It’s a setback everyone experiences whether they’d be waiting for a test result or a bus. The reality of uncertainties creeps up to them like a nagging _what if you failed the test_ or _what if you missed the bus you’ve been waiting for_. And as for Jihoon it’s _what if he won’t ever come back_. It’s not that he’s entirely giving up, though, it just really makes him think with his mind for once, opting to let go of something he hasn’t entirely grasped on yet. With only forgotten years and months to hold onto, Jihoon still stays firm despite the sleepless nights and rare prayers. He wished he was the T-shirt he forgot at Soonyoung’s apartment, at least it’s spending time with him.   

 “You think that I shouldn’t forgive him, or that I shouldn’t let him back in. You and Jeonghan. If I had that mindset, then maybe I wouldn’t have forgiven literally everyone, including my brother.”

“That’s not what I meant. I’m just looking out for you. Sometimes you don’t even answer our calls, and we just—just…please take care, Jihoon. We love you so much.”

“I’m just busy with work, is all,” Jihoon assures. “I mean, I’m trying to live my life here,” he lightly jokes. “I’ll be okay, Seungcheol. You don’t have to worry about me. I’ll know when to move on. It could be today or tomorrow, but I count moments like that in seconds. Right now, at this second, I want to wait for him, and I know I still will until the very next day, and the day after that.”

Seungcheol knows he isn’t asking for an affirmation, nor a consent, but he’s sure of the statement, and the way he glazes his eyes over the starry night. And then he realizes: “Well, love makes you really do stupid, stupid things.”

 

 

 

 

Seungcheol leaves him be to take care of the young ones, booking an Uber ride for those who are too drunk to even move a muscle, albeit how idle the celebration is. Jinsung is one of them, surprisingly, giving him a drunken salute before Seungcheol hauled literally _all_ of them inside the elevator. The others yell him a last birthday greeting before the metallic doors close.

“You can go home already if you want,” Jihoon says, peeking over the kitchen. “I’ll just call a helper who can clean up all this mess tomorrow.”

“Nope, I’m just washing the dishes to find an excuse to spend more time with you,” Seokmin says, drying a whiskey glass with a towel. Jihoon snorts, climbing the chair on the breakfast counter, swinging, his feet against the marble concrete for balance. “You never change.”

He wipes his hands on his pants and sits next to Jihoon, pouring him a glass of red wine. It’s seventeen years old, a sultry gift from Yoongi, who gave it in advance before going on a business trip in Europe. Attached is a note that says: _Happy Birthday, little brother! You’re getting so old already_. Thanks. “That’s true, but I think I got more attractive over the years if I do say so myself.”

“Get out of my house right now.”

“I’m kidding,” Seokmin laughs. “Ah, you’re so rich already that you can call for a helper now.”

“If you want, I can hire you.”

“No thanks, I’m doing fine with my DJ gigs.”

Jihoon chuckles, bumping his knees with Seokmin’s. Silence falls between them, and as high as his penthouse can go, there aren’t much sounds the wind can carry, because it’s nearing midnight already, and most have already gone to their homes, the streets empty. “I missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Seokmin says. “And more often than not, you have that crease between your brows. You look ugly.”

“Really? Most say I’m really handsome.”

“Well, yeah, you’re right.”

“How are you?” Jihoon’s voice softens. “We haven’t been talking for months, and I think this is the most of the free time I could ever have.”

“Yuna and I just broke up, so there’s that.”

“What?”

“It’s fine,” he quickly dismisses. “She needed to settle down in another country for her job, and it’s fine. I understand. We still talk, though.”

“So much can change in a year, huh,” Jihoon says. “Sometimes I just wish time would stop, and just let me breathe for a while.”

“But if time would stop, then we’d stop moving instead of moving on.”

Jihoon pauses, glass empty, wiping his lips with his bare hands. Seokmin continues, “it works, you know? Time can sometimes really heal the pain. Back then—” he mulls carefully. It isn’t part of his agenda to talk about the past especially since it wasn’t brought up by Jihoon. “I was the one who loved you first.”

“Seokmin…”

“And then I thought, since I was the one who loved you before Soonyoung even did, shouldn’t I have more chance with you? But then the time came where I realized that it didn’t work like that. It took me a while to accept it, and in the end, I knew why. Jihoon, I don’t have the slightest understanding of what you’re going through, but I hope that whatever may happen, you end up with something that will make you really happy.”

“Don’t say it like you’re going to leave for good. Sometimes it just really gets lonely, fighting through all of this, and if you’re saying good bye, then I’ll have you know I’m not going to take it very well.”

“Leave you?” Seokmin says. “Why would I even begin to do something I’m bad at?”

 

 

 

 

Seokmin bids him good night, just before midnight strikes. Jihoon gives him a peck on the cheek, and then suddenly, it’s as if their story turned into a dusted book about fairytales, undiscovered, the pages left untouched. Seokmin was his walking ‘what-if’. But above all that, he’s still his friend. He’s someone who kept him warm during the coldest of nights, where both of them were just so lonely it hurt.

He’s all alone now, though. There’s a lost batch of confetti underneath his table, and a forgotten hoodie, who he assumes is Jinsung’s— _Nasty Kick_ , it says. He keeps the remaining alcoholic beverages in the far corner of his fridge, stacking kimchi and leftovers upfront as a form of commitment to his celibacy.  

He’ll just take a bath the next morning, and then call for his helper right after. He lies in bed, loosely gripping on his sleeping phone, which soon lit up the moment he closed his eyes. There’s an abundant ladder of notifications on his lock screen—just text messages and Facebook greetings. Right. Before going to sleep, he should at least acknowledge his friends and co-workers’ messages or else he would come off as rude—not that he cared about the quantitative part of Birthday greetings. He goes to his Facebook profile, swiping, liking, and copy-pasting a simple ‘thank you’ with varying smiling emoticons. He does the same to his text messages, except most are from distant relatives Yoongi introduced to him a few months back. He hits the like button on Wonwoo’s recent post of them smiling, his nose dirtied by icing while he held his Birthday cake. That’s about it, he thinks. Late greetings are to be handled tomorrow.

And then, a notification banner appears, saying: _EMAIL (1)_. He frowns. Perhaps a business partner cared enough for such a personal occasion as the message was sent to his business email address. The message is short, eyes moving to read it over and over, holding onto swipe it again, refreshing to check if it was real. In this bed, he cries when his heart is hurting, and he does it so often that if the pillows were living things, they’d be very much acquainted to his tears. But this time, it’s from happiness— _no_ , joy—much more everlasting, as if all the good things in life resided inside of you like home. 

_(no subject)_

_Kwon Enterprises <_ [ _adminsales@kwonenterprises.com_ ](mailto:adminsales@kwonenterprises.com) _>_

_to me_

_Happy Birthday. You forgot one of your T-shirts here in my apartment. Should I give it back?_

_Yours and always thinking of you,_

_Soonyoung_

 

Birthday wishes do come true.

 

_(no subject)_

_Lee Land Corporation <admin@leelandcorp.com>_

_to Kwon Enterprises <_ [ _adminsales@kwonenterprises.com_ ](mailto:adminsales@kwonenterprises.com) _>_

_I don’t care about the t-shirt fuck you I just need you_

_Always and forever yours,_

_Jihoon_

***

 

Seungcheol Claus makes a comeback in the form of a wedding celebration.

“Hoe, hoe, hoe, I’m going to cry.”

“Jeonghan will definitely say ‘I do,’ so please chill.”

“But what if he doesn’t? Dude, I’m going to die if that ever happens.” It’s pre-wedding jitters, and after Seungcheol’s parents’ visit, comes Jihoon, all suited up, arms folded. A sigh escapes his lips. “Seungcheol, Jeonghan wants to marry you. He’s been wanting to marry you since forever.”

“What if he realizes right then and there that I’m not that one he wants to spend his entire life with?”

“He’s already spending his entire life with you.”

“But still! What if?”

“Well, who else would he want to spend it with?”

Seungcheol pauses. “You have a point.”

“Jesus Christ.”

“I feel like I’m going to cry, like I want to cry right now. Fuck, I’m so happy. I can’t believe this is happening. This is it. I’m going to marry the most beautiful man alive. That’s right. I’m going to do that.”

Jihoon hopes Seungcheol would be the one to cry first. He had bet good money on it—he, Wonwoo and Seungkwan, who are sensible enough to side with his stand. Mingyu and Chan are on the opposing side. They’re just as confident that Jeonghan would cry first. They are _so_ wrong, thank you very much.

It’s only a few days before Christmas, and everything else is just as festive as it could be. The wedding is Christmas-themed, except the linens are that of a monotonous palette, but the details are enough to highlight the holiday spirit. Candy canes, shiny green and red decorations, and Frank Sinatra softly playing in the speakers as they wait for the grand ceremony.

On the left side facing the altar is Seungcheol’s side, and on the other is Jeonghan’s. From where he is, right by the altar, he takes the opportunity to crane his neck to look for the family table before the lights could go off. There’s an empty seat, right by the middle, near the aisle. He recognizes Jeonghan’s Mother, but not the others who sat beside them. The man, the one he didn’t know, nods when he caught his eyes, the woman beside him following. Jihoon, for mere politeness, does the same and wonders if he had ever come across them.

When everyone has settled down, the lights dim, and he hears Seungcheol take a deep breath as he just stood in front of him. He lightly pats his back.

The ceremony starts. Seungcheol smiles so wide, making noises of disbelief, tears welling in his eyes. The spotlight follows Jeonghan as he slowly makes his way to the altar, his Father by his side. When Jeonghan reaches the middle, the light flashes on the table near the edge of the aisle, the one he was just eyeing a while ago. He feels his heart drop to his stomach. This time, the table is full, the empty seat now filled.

All the doubts disappear. He meets Soonyoung again for the third time. The first, he doesn’t quite remember, the second when he stripped, and the third, he’s wearing a tuxedo, making everything worth it.

Soonyoung gives him a smile.

Jihoon wants to remember it forever.

 

 

 

 

 

Seungcheol, as expected, cries while saying his vows. Jeonghan, too, because, well, Seungcheol’s crying. It’s a domino effect from thereon.

_You’re my Christmas miracle, and ever since I met you, I stopped wishing for anything, because I already had you._

Seungcheol and Jeonghan kiss, and they’re off to spend eternity together, which they had been doing ever since, really. They walk all the way to the end of the aisle, while everyone followed, standing up from their seats, wiping their eyes with the cuffs of their suit or their handkerchiefs, stepping on the stray petals on the floor. The next thing he knows, he’s pushed to the gathering crowd.

Jeonghan and Seungcheol raise their arms, throwing the bouquet behind them. Everyone reaches to catch it, falling into the warmth of two different hands that overlapped each other’s knuckles. He stood at the far back, so he had to tiptoe to see who were the people who got it; mostly in the hopes of finding Soonyoung. It’s Seokmin and Seungkwan who caught it.

Suddenly, his hand is taken, entwined with another. Soonyoung says, “I know a thing or two about Christmas miracles, too.”

 

 

 

 

 

It’s not until the reception and when he finishes his Best Man speech that it finally sunk into him that it’s Soonyoung who he’s sitting beside with, that it’s him who he’s leaning against. The dinner reception officially starts, and everyone has gone to fall in line for the buffet. In the middle of the course, slow music started playing, which in turn had every couple dancing, swaying to the beat under low lights and the smell of chicken cordon bleu. Seungcheol and Jeonghan stood in the center. The former is crying yet again, and really, pay up Mingyu and Chan.

“I’m sorry,” Soonyoung whispers, lightly swaying to the music. “I can’t even begin to tell you how sorry I am. I’m sorry I lied, I’m sorry I left, I’m sorry—”

“I forgive you,” Jihoon says, cheek against Soonyoung’s collarbones. “I understand.”

“It goes way back—my issues with my parents, I mean. And on top of that, I hurt you.”

“You must’ve thought I was better off without you,” Jihoon looks up at him. “Well, that’s not true. And you don’t have to carry all that burden by yourself. I’m here. Share your burdens with me. You’re not alone, Soonyoung.”

“I keep thinking, what did I do in my past life to deserve you in this one?”

“I’m sure as hell you must’ve saved a country.”

Soonyoung laughs. “You’re right. I might’ve.” He pauses. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” Jihoon says. “I don’t think there was a time where I didn’t.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll spend a lifetime making up for the things I’ve done. You say it’s okay, but for me it isn’t. You don’t deserve all of that, and I’m sorry.”

“You needed to go back to Japan. You needed to fix things with your parents. I understand, Soonyoung. I understand why you needed to hide the fact that we’ve known each other before, and I’ll be lying if I said it didn’t hurt. It’s just, these things aren’t for you to decide solely upon. I have a say in that. I have a say in what will hurt me or what I deserve. I have a say whether I’d want you to stay or not, and if you really don’t want to, then I’ll try. I’ll try to understand your decision. I just want you to be happy, Soonyoung.”

“I won’t ever leave you again. I won’t.”

“You promise?”

Soonyoung presses a kiss on his forehead. “I promise.”

Jihoon meets Soonyoung’s parents later that night. He learns that they were the same couple who had nodded at him before the ceremony started. They say that it has been eight years since he has graced Soonyoung’s life, but this is the first time they’re meeting.

“You’re just as lovely as I ought you to be,” Soonyoung’s Mother says. “Thank you for being there for Soonyoung.”

Soonyoung’s Father doesn’t say much, but with how he smiled must’ve been a sign how he accepts the whole ordeal. And from that moment, Jihoon learns that there’s still so much to Kwon Soonyoung. He’ll wait until it’s okay for him to open up, until he feels that it’s fine to share his burdens with him, and that with every step of the way, he’ll be there by his side, giving him all the love he could. It’s a good thing he’s going to spend the rest of his life doing so.

They go home. Before going to bed, Soonyoung tells him, “what you wrote on that letter…I remember that night. You were ranting about how you didn’t want your parents’ money, because you felt like they were underestimating you.”

“Yeah,” Jihoon pulls Soonyoung closer. “Now I just wish I’d have both of my parents back to send me money.”

“Jihoon—”

“It’s fine,” Jihoon says. “I keep them alive inside my heart. This thing—” he puts his hand over his chest. “It remembers everything.”

They fall into slumber right after. With Soonyoung breathing evenly beside him, on the bed he had always thought was cold, Jihoon can finally call this place a home.

Soonyoung’s arms envelope him in his sleep.

 

 

***

 

A YEAR LATER

 

“I haven’t been straightforward with you. I actually think you’re the Grinch That Stole Christmas.”

“Shut up, Seungcheol.”

The Choi residence, as always, comes alive during the holidays as if it’s yet again one of the late Gatsby’s parties. The makeshift bar, where he sat on, has been serving him as an acquaintance for the better part of the night. There are new faces, and most who are partying hard, Jihoon learns, are the Christmas Committee graduates, a fresh batch of interns who escaped the torments of a capitalist Santa Claus.

“At least I’m not the one sticking to my phone the whole night and not socializing. You’re such an anti-social person. Grinch.”

Jihoon ignores him. “Hey, what would you do if your boyfriend sends you a dick pic?”

“Don’t tell me Soonyoung sent you a dick pic.”

“No, _I’m_ going to send him a dick pic.”

Seungcheol blinks at him.

“Well, it’s not like I haven’t sent him one before. Imagine having a long-distance relationship, Seungcheol. Do you know how hard it is?”

“Hard for your dick, I suppose.”

“Can we stop talking about dicks?”

“You’re the one who started it.”

“Anyway,” Jihoon presses his cheek against the countertop. “I miss him. It’s Christmas Eve and it’s been so long since we’ve last met.”

“Didn’t he visit you for your birthday?”

“It’s been _so long_ ,” Jihoon groans, gripping Seungcheol’s sleeves. “I’m having some kind of withdrawal.”

“You mean a Soonyoung withdrawal—”

“Wait, oh my God, shut up. He’s calling.” He sits upright and swipes his phone in the speed of light. He brings his phone against his ear, and says, “Soonyoung? How are you doing?”

_“I’m doing fine, baby. I’m sorry I couldn’t be there for Christmas, but I’ve already booked a flight on the 29 th so we can spend New Year’s together.” _

“That busy?”

 _“Yeah, it’s good to keep the company’s momentum at a roll. It’d be hard to stop this time around.”_ Just this year, Soonyoung had been appointed as the CEO of his Father’s company. He’s so proud of how far he has come. _“And I miss you so much.”_

“I miss you, too,” Jihoon replies. He frowns, covering his free ear. “Babe, I can’t hear you very well. Are you at a party?”

_“Yeah. One of my friends threw it, and it’s sucking so far.”_

“So, you’re attending a party,” Jihoon’s tone shifts, which made Seungcheol laugh, imagining Soonyoung on the brink of his death. “You can attend a party, but not use that time to fly all the way here in Seoul to be with your boyfriend?”

Soonyoung ignores him. _“Oh, and there’s a really pretty man in front of me right now.”_

“I’m going to murder you.”

_“The pretty man just said he’s going to murder me.”_

Jihoon turns around, phone still against his ear. He turns it off, hurriedly pocketing it, when he sees Soonyoung, arms spread out. Seungcheol gags at the scene of Jihoon peppering Soonyoung with kisses, while the latter gripped his waist.  

“Now, I’m going to leave you two,” Seungcheol says. “Enjoy. And fuck you, Soonyoung, my parties are amazing.”

“Whatever you say, Seungcheol.”

Seungcheol then disappears into the crowd, right where everyone danced and spilled beer all over each other. The Christmas parties are still the same, except everyone’s a little older, Wonwoo and Mingyu are still making out somewhere in the corner of the living room, and Chan tries his best to refuse drinks that are being offered to him. The difference, however, is that Seungkwan’s not drinking that much anymore because he’s with Seokmin, conversing by the patio with their hands entwined. And then there’s Soonyoung, fully-clothed.

“Want to go somewhere?”

Jihoon hums, latching onto him. “Yeah, sure.”

What he doesn’t expect is Soonyoung wrapping a blindfold around his eyes the moment he stepped inside his car. “Of course, I wouldn’t go here empty-handed.”

They drive, and from the lack of sight, inclusive of snide remarks, Jihoon loses track of time. It must’ve been half an hour or even fourths of it. He hears the soft rumbling of the engine, and a radio DJ announcing the Christmas song he’s going to play next. When they arrived the destination, Soonyoung still doesn’t take off the blindfold, guiding him to what he assumes is an elevator, because suddenly it turned very quiet, the _ding!_ giving so much already.

A few minutes later, after asking Soonyoung questions he won’t answer, he hears something click, like a door is being open, keychains clanking against each other. He steps inside, gripping Soonyoung’s hand. And just then, the handkerchief falls from his eyes.

It’s their old apartment.

As part of the contract, he solely remembers one of the conditions being fully-furnished, and until now, it still is. There’s a couch, a dining table, and probably beds, too. Nostalgia hits him as he reverts his gaze back to Soonyoung, feeling the singularity of falling into place, right where everything started.

“I bought it again,” Soonyoung says. “I thought it’d be nice if we still have this apartment within our reach, you know?”

“Fuck the penthouse.”

“I love our penthouse,” Soonyoung laughs. “But even if this apartment is not as fancy as our penthouse, if you want to move back here, then we will.”

“Wait,” Jihoon purses his lips, looking around. “I think it’s best if we just keep this a memory.”

“Yeah, you’re right. As a memory. But it wouldn’t hurt to make more in it, right?”

“What do you mean?”

Soonyoung takes something from the pocket of his coat, and gets down on one knee. He opens the small velvet box, revealing a diamond ring. He takes a deep breath.

“Jihoon, I love you. I love you more than life itself. I can’t imagine spending the rest of my life without you. Will you marry me?”

“Yes!” Jihoon says, feeling his eyes sting, holding out his hand for Soonyoung to slip in the ring. “I’ll marry you.”

In this apartment, where the remnants of the red tapes are nowhere to be found, and the fridge isn’t filled with orange juice packs anymore, Jihoon still feels at home. Here, he learned to deal with bills and business terminologies to make up for the years he lost in college. Here, he used to communicate with his roommate through post-it notes, and later, he realizes that there’s more to life than his past. And love is something that could transcend beyond the material things that surrounded him. It’s not from the walls of this apartment nor from his penthouse. It’s from Soonyoung.

Just years ago, he texted Andromeda this question:

_Dear DJ Boo, DJ DK, DJ Hoshi,_

_I am very lonely for the holidays._

_How do I survive?_

It was Soonyoung who answered. _Call up your friends and greet them a sweet ‘happy holidays.’ Attend get-togethers, and you never know—you might find your Christmas miracle out there._

He really did.

 

***

 

_College, Freshman year_

 

“Ow, ow, ow, it hurts!” Jihoon yells, writhing on the floor, holding onto his damaged hip. “Why did you put me down?”

“I didn’t put you down. You suddenly just let go.” Soonyoung explains tiredly, offering a hand. “Get up, Lee, or else I’m going to leave you there. Good luck sleeping on the street, then.”

Jihoon is, by far, the worst drunk Soonyoung has ever met. It’s quite expected from someone who spends majority of his time studying and sucking up to their professors. (Jihoon absolutely denied about the latter, but Soonyoung’s belief still stands.) The party is still ongoing, and they aren’t that far from the house, considering how Jihoon forgot how to walk. Seungcheol and Jeonghan are still in an orgy, and the goody-two-shoes is still quite not done about ranting how he’s an independent man.

Soonyoung takes the liberty to haul him back again for a piggyback ride. “Lee, you’re going to wake up thinking you got laid, because you can’t even goddamn walk.”

“Fuck you, my hips hurt.”

Soonyoung sighs, readjusting his position. “Where do you live?”

“Fuck you, Kwon Soonyoung. I hate you.”

“I know,” Soonyoung says. “Listen, if you’re not going to tell me where you live, I might have to take you to Jeonghan hyung and I’s apartment.” He then mumbles, “and you never know, he and Seungcheol might get engaged tonight or the next day.”

“Can you please stop being nice to me?” Jihoon pokes his cheek. With every mumble, Soonyoung gets reminded of how drunk he is. First-timers. “You should continue being an asshole. That would make my life a lot easier.”

“If that’s the case then I’m going to be _very_ nice to you. I like seeing you suffer.”

“Now you’re just being mean,” Jihoon’s grip on him tightens. “If you continue being nice, I might just fall in love with you.”

 _He’s drunk_ , Soonyoung reminds himself, shrugging. Anything that he’d say would be just a distant dream for Jihoon, and if he does remember the morning after, he could just always deny.

“Well,” he continues walking, bending slightly to support Jihoon’s weight against his back. “You didn’t really have to be nice to me to make me fall in love with you.”

 

***

 

Jihoon, for one, had only meant to find someone to pay half the rent, while Soonyoung just tried to get by with his jobs whilst trying to put his past behind him. But with both of them entangled under a soft bedsheet, they realize that somewhere between hook-ups, post-it notes, red tapes and strip Uno, they find something more than what they bargained for.

_Home._

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that’s a wrap! Thank you so much for reading and for sticking with Jihoon and Soonyoung’s journey all throughout this story. 
> 
> I started writing this fic just last year in the month of December with the intention of it just being a short Christmas fic, but I’m glad it turned out to be something more than that, like the story just came to life on its own. 
> 
> This fic served as a material to improve my writing, and while I faced many slumps and many episodes of writer’s block, I’m glad I pulled thru. Herewith, I would like to thank my friends who encouraged me all throughout the process, and you guys for reading the story until the end. (And the whole Cheese in The Trap OST.)
> 
> This fic is first rooted with the concept of loneliness, miracles and sacrifice. It’s hard to get over these things, and with miracles, it’s just really difficult to believe. But most of the time, it’s something we can’t even begin of imagining.  
> Also, scars from our past run deep, and it’s never too late to fix it or come into terms with it. If we can give second chances to others, then why not give some to ourselves, too?
> 
> Soonyoung and Jihoon have let go of many things all throughout the story, but they hold onto something that pricks their hands the most and yet heals them. Each other. Not only that but to their families and friends too, whose love will transcend for a lifetime. 
> 
> (Additional note: do y’all realize how super rich Soonyoung and Jihoon are individually now, and since they’re together, combine that shit and like. Wow. Rich.)
> 
> And with that, thank you so much for reading! Sending y’all lots of love. If you have any questions or clarification, please do say it to me and I will nerd out about symbolism, parallels, and the like.
> 
> Also!! I will be posting a short prequel of Carry Me Home Tonight by next year (which is a month from now.) Hopefully, I will get to finish it around the said time, but I’m sure it will be up soon. The tentative title is: Brighter Than the Sun. Please look forward to it! <3
> 
> Once again, thank you all so much for reading! 
> 
> And:
> 
> (Seokmin and Seungkwan try to make things work, Yoongi still visits Jimin’s grave almost every day, Junhui and Minghao’s married life is doing well, Jisoo and Hansol are, too, surprisingly, Chan has had enough of monthly fees, Byulyi and Yongsun live together now, Yuna’s happy for Seokmin, Wonwoo and Mingyu were actually FWB at first but ended up falling for each other, Jinsung passed his finals, Jeonghan and Seungcheol are off to adopt a baby girl, and Soonyoung and Jihoon get married and still resides by the penthouse. They had their honeymoon at Bora Bora. Soonyoung now lives permanently with Jihoon as he heads the Seoul branch of their company.
> 
> Jihoon’s memories doesn’t come back, however, but when some of it does, it’s just bits and pieces, but it’s okay. He will be fine. He has futures ahead to remember anyway.)

**Author's Note:**

> When will I stop using lyrics/songs as titles? The world may never know. 
> 
> Also, let's talk! twitter.com/twentycarat, ask.fm/twentycarat


End file.
